Let Not Light See
by forevernever030
Summary: "Shh don't be scared," I speak in my softest voice. "Shh," because fear is the new sexy. She was alone till he came into her life. Naive Clary believes he's Peter Pan to take her to Neverland and make her happy. But how can that be if Jace is only hiding his bloodthirsty psychopath self, trying to destroy her? Was it a mistake to love him or the only way to stay alive?#crazy clace
1. Prologue

_...the Prince of darkness is a gentleman..._

 _-Shakespeare_

 **Prologue**

When I smelled the stale rustiness, I knew it was finished. Panting, I grin for a while, then climb off her. I tear off the rest of her clothes, leaving her bare on the cold wooden floor. Fucking shit, so cliché. Kneeling down beside her with one of my hands wiping the blood off my blade, I brush my lips against her ear.

"Melius relinquere," I whisper. Better to leave. "You're lucky."

Then with a wink, I leave the chilly room.

.

.

.

F.i.f.t.e.e.n.m.i.n.u.t.e.s.a.g.o.

I climb over the fence, acknowledging a certain scent. Roses. Weird. It's winter and everything is covered up with snow. Shaking my head, I climb the girl's dorm building, target a random window and throw myself in without a noise.

There's a sleeping figure on a bed, and I approach it quietly.

"Knock knock," I whisper, and the girl jumps up with a gasp.

When she sees me, she tries to scream, but I quickly push her up against the headboard, clamping my hand down on her mouth.

"Shh," I hiss, studying the new girl. Fair hair-I see through the darkness. "It's okay. It's just that I saw you this afternoon before. And I found you quite... Interesting."

She's still tensed up, her body stiff against me. Still pressing my palm to her mouth, I lower my head down to her collarbone, tracing the lines with my tongue.

The girl struggles against my hold, a noise escaping from her throat.

"It's fine, I won't cause any harm if you don't want it," I whisper, my eyes fixed upon hers. Those eyes study mine, then travel down to my face, to my body. To encourage her, I press myself close to her, letting her feel me getting hard.

As if to test out, I slowly move my hand away from her mouth and lean my head closer to press my lips feverishly against hers. She's unresponsive at first, but soon follows my moves, sucking my bottom lip.

"Can I take that as an yes?" I ask quietly, leaning away from her a bit. She pauses, unmoving. "Can I?"

Her hands reach the back of my neck, pulling me closer. And I decide that's when I should stop being such a gentleman. Shaking my head, I take her wrists in my hand and pin it against the headboard tightly. She shivers in anticipation, and I start with the pulse on her neck, sucking and licking up to her mouth.

 _...Oh, Jacey... ...You are always such a bad boy..._

 _...Now don't make mommy upset..._

I unconsciously dig my nails to the skin of her wrist, pressing my lips harder and harder. As I start kissing her, the girl wraps her legs around my waist, begging for more. I harshly thrust my hips against hers, grinding rapidly. She lets out a breathy moan, and I add pressure to the hold on her wrists to quiet her.

 _Kiiiiiillllllllllllll heeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrr_ , a voice whispers from the depth of my head. As if I need to be told. _Bloooooooodddddddd_.

Almost like a man driven wild, a humming noise starts to increase in my ears. I bite down on her lower lip, tasting blood, but she doesn't seem to mind. She only twists her body for more contact, and I release her wrists to palm her breasts underneath her shirt. With her freed hands, she takes mine off too while I dig my palms into her flesh.

 _Flesh_. _Blood_.

I moan at the very thought, and the girl responses fervently by clawing down on my bare shoulder.

 _Pain. ...Jacey!... ...Jacey!... ... ...JACEY!..._

Among the voices singing inside my head, a sudden noise rips through my ear, and I realize I had just collided my head with the headboard.

The girl seems to be too busy to notice my distraction, drawing her hand down to the bulge beneath my jeans. She starts palming, and I quickly get rid of her pants and her underwear.

She unbuttons my jeans, taking my erection in her hands to rub harder. Although I should be consumed up in pleasure and anticipation, I can't focus. Not today. I don't even say anything. Just sitting there like an empty man.

So only after she quickly undoes my jeans and boxer, I plunge deep into her, making her moan shakily.

I thoughtlessly thrust myself into her, too distracted to make any dirty comments. Too distracted to acknowledge the adrenaline through my veins as I sink the blade deep inside her heart. Too distracted to stab her more and more. Distracted by the voices in my head. Why today? Why so suddenly? _What do you need?!_

.

.

.

P.r.e.s.e.n.t.

I need something new.

* * *

"But mommy-"

"Stop it Clarissa, just... Stop it!" The young woman-pretty certain not over thirty five-strains her voice out to the little redhead. "Can't you be like any other daughters?!"

Sighing, I shoot a quick glance over at my watch. Almost seven pm. This is taking longer than I hoped...

"I can't go there! I can't!" The girl screams. "There's a monster! In the Love House! It comes at night, killing off people-"

"No, no, no, Clary..." The woman holds on tight to the little girl's shoulder, her too-young face crunched up with pain and fury. Beautiful... With the makeup on her face smudged with tears, she makes the perfect scenery.

"I'm going to die-" the girl-Clary-wails, letting out a series of panicked hiccups. "I'm going to die if you send me there."

"Stop talking!" The mother lets out a harsh yell, grabbing at her daughter's cheek. "I told you! I don't want anyone to know you're breathing in this house."

Then I hear several crashes from the small house, making me roll my eyes. I look around, wondering if someone would call the police, but then I realize... I'm at 'that part' of the town. Everyone keeps their curtains closed.

I see an old lady passing the house, her face coated with a wall of apathy. She walks through the snow, every footstep leaving it bleed white. Then I feel a deep ache shooting through the center of my brain. Ah, dammit... This again.

The woman takes a swift glance at the girl's house, then quickly looks away, her face as hard as a stone wall again.

 _...No one's here to help you, you delusional boy... Scream as much as you want to..._

Her eyes come into a contact with mine, flinching.

 _...Indifference, nonchalance, callousness-that's what all people are about. You think anyone gives a fucking shit about you?..._

The woman ignores my long stare, then walks into a pale blue house.

"Urgh," I groan out, shaking the pulsing pain out of my head. That's it. I quit. I'm heading back to the Love House. I guess I'll just wait for the girl to come. Tonight, I tell myself.

* * *

Looking up at the night sky, I can't help but smirk. The restless souls never bothered me, really. But it feels _Romantic_ for tonight, cold breeze snapping past me.

"Counting the stars?" I'm interrupted by a boy, his eyes hollow and bare. He has sharp cheekbones and skin tone. "This isn't a place for such an ordinary boy like you to be at."

I give him a little smirk, studying him carefully. Surely from the House. "Ordinary, you think I am?"

"Well, compared to the kids in this place," he nods to the House. "You're pretty ordinary, I would say. This is the place for the troubled teens, you know."

"And you're one of those... Troubled teens?" It isn't really a question. Anyone would be able to guess that, judging by his looks.

He laughs bitterly, his eyes turning a shade darker. "Well, I guess so. I feel too much... Pleasure."

"Alright, then." There's a brief pause as if both of us are expecting something. "The mark," I smirk, reading a tattoo placed on his collarbone. "Goodbye to the found souls. I like that."

"It's my life thing," he says swiftly. As if I care.

"Look, you ever heard of a girl named... Clary?"

"Clary? You mean Clarissa Fray? I've heard her alright. She's quite famous here, in the Love House," he answers right away.

"How is she? Like, what's she like?"

"What, you want to know about her sexual fetishes or something? Pretty sure it would be useless, though."

I smile a little for him. "No, not her fetishes, but," then I narrow my eyes a little. "What do you mean, it would be useless?"

"Ah, never mind. It's just... If you mess with her, you wouldn't like it. Like I said, this place is for the troubled folks."

"I don't really care about businesses like that," cause it's going to be over when my blade cuts her bratty dirty life out of her bruised body. So vivid, I think to myself. So vivid when I haven't even yet come close to her in any way.

"Well let me tell you something about her. Too innocent to be here, but... A true troublemaker. You'd understand if you see her. She's fucked up like any one of us."

"Which room does she usually use?" I already feel the excitement burning deep in my heart.

"I'm not sure... Probably room 304... I don't know," he scowls for a second, then. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious," I say, grinning. I've got what I need now. "What are you doing out here anyways, Troubled Boy? Aren't you supposed to be locked up in a room or something for the sake of the whole humanity?"

"I escaped," he states proudly. "I can use my hands pretty well, you know."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you do. But that's it? You can just go off like that?"

"Nah. I'm probably going back to the House sooner or later. My dear shitty excuse for a parent brought me here and never came back," he speaks nonchalantly. As hard as he's trying to hide it, I can see the pain peeking out from his eyes. "I've got nowhere to sleep."

I let out a small laughter, maybe on purpose.

"What," the boy's face hardens as he recognizes my laughter as an entertained one. Amused one, to be specific.

"Just funny," I get my face close to his, my voice dropping to a lower tone. "You coward, hunger and cold isn't the reason you go back to the House every time. Got a diamond of yours stuck in that crazy asylum?"

Smirking, I lean back away from his glaring stare.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he shakes his head. "Look-"

"I suspect a girl. Or maybe a dirty little secret?"

"You don't know a fuck about me," he hisses. "So shut your fucking mouth up, and back off."

"Ah, maybe you're the famous killer?" I feel my mouth tilting up into a brilliant, insane smile.

I watch him flinch at the word. His eyes turn into skeptical ice. "How do you know about the deaths? The secret stays strict to the House."

"Honey," I inhale deeply, enjoying every moment of the sharp air and the atmosphere. His expression turns to suspicion, then to deliberate anxiety-maybe fear. "You know I never counted the stars. I don't really go for that kind of things."

Then I finish him up with the blade in my pocket.

Nobody hears him scream.

He gets lost into the night with his final scream.

I leave a tiny love letter on his bleeding chest, watching the note getting soaked by red.

* * *

But I wait until the absolute dark. Just to make it eloquent and precise. As the full moon rises upon the House, my patience finally wears up. Hell, this is dramatic enough. I climb up the iron gate easily, the protruding parts never bothering me.

Luckily, 304 is the one with a window. I find my way to that side nonchalantly, then climb the wall that leads to the girl. I'm a predator in the dark here. I know every route leading to every preys. Finally, I reach the window, slide it up easily, met with a set of rusty bars separating me and the girl.

Rolling my eyes, I examine the part hinged to the wall. Oh come on, this easy? Using my cutting disks just a little at the edge of the hinge, I easily lift the bottom of the entire set of bars.

The girl, having awoken by the noise of the metal, makes a weird noise in the back of her throat. I can hear her rapid gasps, and fuck. Are those heartbeats I'm hearing? Just perfect, so fucking perfect.

"Who's... Who's there?" She asks in a tiny staggering voice. Ah, fear. I can already taste the damned thing vibrating in the air seductively. "Shh, don't be scared," I speak in my softest voice. "Shh," because fear is the new sexy.

 **I know. There was no Clary at all in this chapter except for at the end, but hey- first chapters are always meant to be boring.**

 **Also lemons in first several chapters won't be an actual 'lemony' thing, cuz, well... You just read it. It's more of a... Um, a disturbing period where you get some insight on Jace's condition/thoughts. I mean, Clary's not even in it. YET.**

 **So I just wanted to try this one out. You know, to get to know your thoughts on this plot line. I hope you can give me some feedbacks.**

 **ANY CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM WELCOMED!**

 **Actually, they're more than welcomed, since that's the whole purpose of uploading this before writing more chapters.**


	2. First Blood

**First Blood**

"Oh," the girl lets out a relieved breath when she hears my voice. "I thought... I thought you were a monster." Even in the dark, her eyes are ridiculously green, that's what I first notice about her.

"A monster?" I grin, climbing over the windowsill to her.

"I know. Ridiculous. I mean... You have such a nice voice," she shifts up against her pillow, her voice now radiating off curiosity instead of fear.

I give her a little laugh, stepping carefully over to her bed after taking my jacket off. "Mind if I join you?" I whisper, my hand already pressed against the spot beside her, and other hand in my pocket, playing with the cold blade.

"Um, of course not," her voice wavers, though, uncomfortably.

"What's wrong?" I ask slipping under the cover beside her.

"It's just... I never had a stranger being so... Friendly with me. Or anyone, in fact."

"Really, Clary," I say in a hushed voice. "That's not nice." She doesn't even ask how I know her name. She just stays still, partly confused, as I shift our position slightly so that I'm on top of her. My back is arched so we're barely touching, but with my breath hot against her bare neck and my fingers playing with the edge of her soft pj pants, I know it's enough to drive other girls crazy.

But not this one, though.

"What are you doing?" She asks, startled a bit by my closeness.

"I'm trying to be nice," I speak in a low voice, wishing to feel her fear again. "After all, you deserve it."

"Do I?" Then she bites her lower lip, pausing. "No. Mommy said I'm troubled. And I make her upset and sad. It's my fault she drinks bad things. I'm a bad girl."

"You're a bad girl, sweetie?" I hum in the back of my throat, burying my mouth against the base of her neck. My mouth moves against her soft skin-both warm and cool at the same time.

When I feel her bare skin exposed between her top and her pants, I can feel some sort of a resemblance between us. Her eyes twinkle in the dark as if to spell out 'I feel it too' but of course, it must be my imagination.

Then she gasps, seeming to have remembered something. "Oops." I feel my brain snap at her disinterest in the situation. "And mommy told me not to let boys touch my- oh!" She inhales sharply as I press my hardness down on her. At fucking last. Finally having gotten a reaction I want, I grin in satisfaction. "What... Was that?"

She finally seems to be uncomfortable with me pressed close to her own body. She twists underneath me uncertainly, causing friction on my hard-on which makes me almost moan. I go limp on her body, every inch of my skin touching hers.

"Sweetie, do you trust your mommy?" I ask instead, lifting my head up to see her small face. Her head is framed with her fiery hair spread on the pillow, and she seems to be confused and dizzy.

"Of course I do," she giggles as if that's the most obvious question ever. "Don't you?" She then asks, frowning.

I don't answer her, fumbling with the blade tight in my hand-too tight, letting my own blood slide down from my palm across my wrist. This is taking much longer than usual, and I don't mind at all.

"I'll tell you later," I finally say slowly. "But meanwhile... I need you to do something for me."

I stop playing with her clothes. If this girl is not interested in fucking, then there's always other ways. A bead of sweat runs down my forehead as I tilt my head slightly to show amusement.

"Anything. As... Um..." She pauses for a moment. "As a friend."

"A friend?" I raise on eyebrow, smirking down at her.

"I mean... If you don't want to be, we don't need to... I'm just saying, if you want to be friends with me, not that you'd want to, because nobody wants to, but-"

"Stop, sweetie," because I just got the most brilliant idea in my insane history. "Of course I want to be friends with you."

In the dark, I can barely see her smiling shyly as I put on my best sickly sweet smile. I put my blade back away. Waiting is definitely not my favorite thing, but when you can tear your prey's body apart and eat its heart out if you just wait, then you can't just be satisfied with the meat it gives you.

Sacrifice.

For the greater good.

"Oh," she says, blinking. "So what was it that you wanted me to do?"

"Nothing," I breathe. "Nothing at all." I brush her loose hair behind her ears, then leap off from the bed. "But you should probably go back to sleep."

"You're going?" The girl asks, panicking. "But I thought you were going to stay." Her eyebrows scrunches in disappointment.

"I promise to come back tomorrow afternoon. Now get some sleep."

"But sleeping is _boring._ Sometimes, it's so boring, I think I might actually die in my sleep."

"It might actually be a good way to go," I speak softly without really thinking.

"Oh, but I always wanted to die in blood."

She says it in such an innocent voice, I look down at her for a moment. I imagine her covered in blood, shivering and whimpering in fear but moaning out pleasure and begging me to keep going. Shuddering in yearning, I lean down to her.

After I mark the prey mine with a kiss on the forehead, I leave the room.

* * *

I can't sleep tonight. Partly because I couldn't get full relief from tonight's hunt, and partly because of the excitement that will be brought to me tomorrow.

Sighing, I reach for the pills under my bed and pop a few into my mouth. But I still keep seeing flashes of red in the back of my eyes. Shit, this obviously wouldn't help. I reach for my shirt and jeans on the floor, then my coat.

I drive myself out to the closest bar, shivering as I enter the warm, smokey place. There aren't many people in the place, but the dim light is still warm and the glasses are still cool. I decide not to drink anything though. I need to be at my perfect condition tomorrow.

But when a girl near me offers a glass, I can't just resist it. And a pretty girl... I check the blade in my pocket, every inch of my body shivering from anticipation.

"Are you here by yourself?" She asks me, her voice definitely drunk in the deep flooding of the alcohol.

"Should I be?" I say instead, taking a sip from the glass.

"It's not safe for you in this place to be alone," she smiles sickly, her eyes glimmering with excitement. Oh fuck. Fucking fuck fuck fuck fuck...

"Neither is it for you," I speak huskily, nodding my chin at her exposed breasts.

"You think I can't take care of myself?" She slurs, smirking like a little bitch who's about to be torn into pieces.

"Prove it to me, then," I whisper against her neck, running my fingers across her thigh as the strong scent of her perfume enters my system, activating my hunter instinct.

"Your car?"

Oh darling, I can't let you stain my property, can I? "No. The restroom isn't far away."

* * *

Pulling her into the stall, I take my blade out and rip her clothes expertly. She pales at the sight of my weapon.

"What- what's that for?" Her eyes widen, and I push her against the wall.

"Don't worry," I whisper. "Just don't scream."

"Wait-"

I cut her off by biting the skin on her neck, making her gasp.

When it's this easy to make a girl react... I feel pathetic about my failure to do the same thing to the redhead. I wrap my arms tightly around her, securing both her arms as she moans and grinds into me.

If this was the redhead, it would be just perfect. Her body a mess against mine, blood and sweat mixed together, and I can make sure it would be all about passion. I mentally try to replace the girl's black hair with red hair, and her closed eyes with panicked, wide green eyes.

"Oh fuck," I murmur and the girl in front of me responds by wrapping her legs around my waists.

 _...no, Jace... ...end it now..._

I snap back from the pleasure of the girl pressed against my throbbing cock.

Securing her ankles with one hand, I press the cold blade against the pulsing spot on her neck. I swear loudly again in pleasure as her eyes snap open.

"What-"

"Come on, never heard pausing isn't attractive?"

She screams loudly-loud enough.

 _...They never hear your fucked up screams..._

 _...Come on, listen to mommy when she's saying it nicely, Jacey..._

My head throbs in pain, and I try to ignore it as I watch the clear red beads from against the girl's neck.

"Please," the girl gasps. "Please don't do this- help!"

But _they_ never stop when I asked. Anger consumes up my body and I stab the blade through the bitch's hand. Very unprofessional of me, I know.

But she still screams in a perfect way. Perfect way to end this perfect night.

.

.

.

I finish my drink calmly, and I get out of the place after hearing a shriek from the restroom.

* * *

Through the foggy headache in my head which is piercing through the center of my brain, I find the girl sitting outside on the grass with her back turned to me. She's leaning against the fence that separates the land of the crazy and the land of the stone faced passersby. Alone.

A group of other teen girls walk past her, shooting her a dirty look. And that explains it. Even in the land of the crazy, she's the queen of madness.

Entertained, I crouch down and tap her shoulder through the gap on the fence, and she turns around to see me.

"Hello," I say, putting on my best gentleman-before-psycopath smile.

"Hey, you're back, Sebby!" She exclaims, her eyes exploding like fireworks-only if I can make it literal instead of metaphorical.

"Sebby?" I ask, frowning, but without losing my smile. "Is that my new name or something?"

"Well, I thought," she starts proudly. "I should call you Sebastian, because you look like him."

"Do I?" The headache pounds harder against my brain in amusement. And she never asks for my real name. "Tell me, is this Sebastian guy good looking?"

"He's a prince," she replies as if that answers the question. "He's the one who rescues me from a burning castle."

So I decide this Sebastian guy must be an insane artwork created in this girl's mind.

"Sweetie, how old are you?" I ask, truly curious.

"I'm... Fifteen. But I'm almost sixteen, though."

"Still young, aren't you?" I say softly, sitting on the grass comfortably with the fence between me and the girl,

"Not that young," she protests. "I'm quite mature in the inside, you know."

I laugh, trying to suppress the sarcasm in my voice and replace it with warmth. "Of course you are, sweetie."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" She asks, genuinely puzzled.

"What, sweetie?" I lean back, amused. "You don't like being called that?"

"I mean, it's not like I'm a chocolate bar or something." Honestly. She never heard of that before? "It's quite intimidating, you know. It feels like you want to eat me or something."

 _Sweetie_ , it just makes me go delirious at the thought of how much I want to eat you out, clawing at your tempting flesh...

"Oh come on, don't tell me you don't know what that means." Though, I wouldn't really mind. Innocence is also as hot as fuck.

She blinks, her green eyes turning greener the more I look into them. "I..."

I laugh lightly, shaking my head.

"Are you laughing at me?" She asks, her cheeks turning red. "Sebastians always laugh at me."

"Do we?"

"I only want people to laugh at my dead body. I think it's very rude to laugh at a breathing one. But a dead body might be fun," she blurs off the last part, as if she's thinking carefully of something.

"I'm sorry if we offended you." Cause who gives a fuck on what the actual Sebastian guy does when she's by herself?

"Well, you can't blame me for not knowing..." Her eyebrows arch into a frown. "What's that?" She asks in a truly intrigued voice, lifting the sleeve of my sweater. She's looking at the red lines, tracing them with her fingertips.

"It's... An attempt," I decide to answer curtly. Not yet.

"An attempt? For what?"

I take her fingers off from my wrist, taking them back to her side of the fence. I, then, reach out through the barrier to touch her red curls.

"You know where you go when you die, sweetie?" I ask, going for innocence.

"Mommy said we all go up to the clouds. She told me we all get chocolate ice cream. Well, if you be nice, I guess."

"Yes, the paradise. Well, with these," I tell her sincerely, looking into the depth of her eyes. "You can get closer to those clouds for a while."

"Have you?" She asks, tilting her head. "Gotten closer?"

"Of course I have," I offer her a smile which she returns. "Here, let me show you."

I take my pocketknife out, studying her reaction carefully. She doesn't show a sign of surprise, but seems to be curious nonetheless. I press it against the skin of my wrist-just not enough for me to bleed-as the redhead gasps.

"Doesn't that hurt? Mommy told me not to get close to sharp things. She said it makes you bleed."

"Aw, sweetie," I release my wrist from the tension, having not planned to bleed in front of her just yet. "But blood is the golden key to the heaven. I'm afraid your mommy was just trying to stop you from being happy in paradise and all, Clary."

"But..." Her face crunched up in betrayal. Damn, this girl believes too hard. But hard is good, alright. "Why would she feel that way? Is it because I was being a bad girl? She told me that once. She told me I'd go to hell."

"Sweetie, you need to be free from your mommy, okay? She's not going to make you happy. Don't believe in what she says."

Then I offer her the knife. I don't want her trying it yet, but I know she'll refuse it for now.

"I don't..." Of course. "I don't think..."

I retrieve it, giving her a tense smile. She tries to return it in an awkward way, but her face suddenly turns into walls of horror as the knife is kicked away from my grip.

I look up, my eyes finding a set of angry green.

"What are you doing to my daughter?" She demands in a hysterical voice, her eyes burning into mine.

"Why, ma'm, I-"

"Stay. Away. From her," and I can see it. The pure protectiveness toward her daughter trembling across the fence. "Clarissa, we're going home," she eyes the redhead, trying to reach for her hand.

The young girl looks at me sheepishly for a moment, remembering what I've just said. _Don't listen to her_ , I speak silently.

"I'm... Sorry..." She mumbles, then stands up.

Then I'm left alone on the outer side of the fence as the younger redhead walks hesitantly to the office to check out. The mother keeps turning back to me, and I find it extremely disturbing.

Maybe I should just kill her.

 _Maybe I should just kill her,_ _I think. It's going to be simple. No more smell of her perfume on my pillow, no more pretending to be asleep._

 _"Jacey, you in there?" I hear the terrifying voice from out of my room._

 _My heart beats restlessly, and my hands shake as the whole atmosphere seems to be full of fear, anxiety, and distress, driving me crazy. I hate this. I hate feeling weak and pathetic._

 _And I know, I know, I KNOW, I KNOW._

The girl takes her mother's hand, crossing the road while trying to take a glance of me.

 _"I can never kill her," I wince out, my voice barely audible in agony and fear._

 _My head starts to pound. Hard. But hard is good, alright._

 **Hello! In case you guys are confused, the italics from the last part is a pov from Jace's past. Kinda like a flashback, really. Sorry if it got you guys wondering.**

 **Anyways, thank you all for reading and thanks for the feedbacks. Love hearing from you guys. I really hope you enjoyed.**

 **Any criticism welcomed as long as it's helpful ;)**


	3. Degradation Before

**Degradation Before**

Killings have been quite boring for these days. It's kinda like drug, you see. You just have to get stronger impact. Especially when it's right in front of your eyes.

I watch the girl sleeping on a hospital bed, her blood temptingly seeping through a bandage. It's been hours since her mother left, and she's been sleeping from then without a break. I snuck in here shortly after everyone left.

I lean forward as her eyes finally open, her eyelashes fluttering over her clean eyes. I see recognition in her eyes as she spots me.

"Sebastian-" that's the first thing she sobs out.

"Aw, sweetie, what have you done?" I put on my sweet caring face, kneeling down beside her bed. I know what she's done. I checked up with the doctor.

"I tried to get close to the clouds-" hiccup "but it hurt so much-" hiccup "but you told me blood is good-" hiccup-

"Shh, Clary, calm down," I brush her stray hair strands sticking on her forehead away. "It's okay. I'm here, aren't I?"

"I got scared," she whispers, pulling me close. "So I tried to stop it but I couldn't. Too much... Too much..."

I close my eyes and imagine a small redhead girl trembling from fear as blood overcomes her. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her delicate body. Like a tiger protecting its prey from other predators.

"Why do you think it didn't work on me?" She whispers against my chest, and I can match her breaths with the drumbeats of my heart. "I didn't get close to the clouds. Is it because I'm a bad girl?"

"That might be a possible, sweetie. Only good girls go to heaven."

Her eyes fall, her chatty lips closed. "But Sebastian, I tried. I really really tried to be good-"

"Now, sweetie," I pull away from her. "Why don't we go take some fresh breath of air?"

"I'm not allowed to leave this place," she tells me quietly.

"I never asked for a permission, though, did I?"

Detaching her from a thin tube taped on her hand, I lift her up in my arms, and walk out of the room.

"Excuse me, sir-" a voice interrupts me- a nurse. I raise my eyebrows, daring her to continue. "The patient," she nods at the girl. "Stays in the room."

I lean forward, meeting my eyes with her intensely. Her eyes waver a little from our contact.

"No, sir. She needs to stay. It won't take long until we'll have her back home, but-" she squints her eyes for a moment. "Who are you?"

I break the eye contact and the tension. I sigh, tilting my head a bit, then dash out of the hallway. I hold onto the girl carefully, feeling like she might snap into half in my hold.

I hear the nurse yelling, but I ignore the chaos behind me. I know I probably wouldn't be able to make it so I swing one of the wheelchairs through the window. A satisfactory smile breaks through my face as I hear the glass shattering behind me.

The girl still in my arm-who's been miraculously quiet-just holds onto me as I swiftly step up to the window sill.

As a doctor rushes to me, I jump backwards, and with the girl shrieking in my arms, the doctor yelling out, the nurses murmuring, and the sudden whoosh of the air... It's only a few feet fall, but I'd call this concerto a masterpiece.

But because I'm holding the girl, I can't quite land gracefully. Both of us roll a few good meters, sending us to the very depression between hills.

Still on the snow covered grass, I stare at the sky for a while, then unwrap my arms to free the little redhead trembling on my chest.

"My head hurts," that's the first thing that comes out of her mouth.

Her hair caught some snow on it, and I just realize that red and white goes together quite well. I imagine just killing her here. Her red blood glittering on the white snow as her green eyes lose their light...

"It'll be fine," I tell her, brushing away the snow flecks from her hair. "But as much as I wish to stay like this, we need to keep going before the hospital freaks do something."

* * *

She looks quite comfy in my car, and I don't mind, except for the fact that I continuously have to stop her from touching the control buttons.

"Honestly, sweetie," I say, laughing, while I pull her hand away from the gear stick. "Haven't you ever been in a car before?"

"No," she shakes her head. "Not really."

I lean back against my seat, trying to focus on driving and not on the girl sitting next to me. "Well, then. Just try not to break my car."

She purses her lips, then, looking out of the window. We pass through bare trees and hills covered with snow. There's this precise silence between us for a moment until she starts talking again.

"How did you know I was in hospital anyways?" She asks carefully as if afraid to hear my answer.

"I kind of did," I smiled at her. "The way the other Sebastian knows exactly which burning castle to rescue you from."

"Oh," she pulls her legs up to the seat, wrapping her arms around them and resting her chin on the knees. "That's sort of cool. I think I like Sebastians. But Sebastian knows which castle cause it's always the one with corpses on the walls." The girl frowns for a moment then. "Did the hospital have corpses on the wall too?"

"There are always corpses on hospital walls, sweetie. You never knew that?"

"I guess it kinda makes sense. Sally died in a hospital," she says thoughtfully. "I think I saw her corpse back there."

I let out a hum within a soft exhale. I know there's no point in asking who Sally was. She was probably one of the Sebastians.

Maybe I'll hang her corpse on the hospital. Along with Sally and she'd cry out for Sebastian- but goddammit, he's only in her fucked up mind.

"So what's your story, sweetie?"

She shifts uncomfortably, her eyes traveling from trees to trees outside. So weak. So small. Too... Pure. And purity... Something so exposable to the dark.

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" I raise an eyebrow at her. "It isn't a really hard question, you know."

"Then what about yours?" She challenges me quietly.

I pause for a moment. Fuck it, she's going to die in a few days, so why do I care?

"Our family moved around a lot. Poland, Germany, Italy... My favorite was France, though. I graduated high school early at seventeen there, and I'm in college to be a lawyer. My dad owns a big company so I have a lot of funds and I'm actually thinking about studying abroad. England, maybe. I might even start a business instead. I don't know."

The girl seems to be awed. "For... Real?" She asks, her green eyes wide and innocent.

I keep silent. No, I never even had a family. At least nothing that lasted for more than half a year. I never graduated high school. Never set my foot in there, actually, except for that time when I blew up the whole thing away. No way I'm a lawyer, I would be the one needing a lawyer for all the ruthless kills I've left. No dad. Had more than five different men that others liked to refer to 'dad' or 'stepdad' but no, none with a company. All with cans of beer or cigarettes lit up for me. No funds. Living in a small apartment and not even a legal thing. Never been to England, or never would. Business of killing? Maybe. If I get older and can be finally free from this dump.

 _...Promise me, Jacey. Promise to stay with mommy forever..._

 _...You've grown up so much, baby, don't make mommy disappointed..._

I stomp hard on the break, the car skidding to a halt and the little girl flies against the seatbelt. Beads of sweat roll down my forehead as I try to ease the headache out, shouts by the girl muffled out by my system.

Pain rushes through the very center of my brain.

 _...Pain... ...Such a blessing from the God-take it gracefully, son..._

 _...You look... ...so pretty when in pain. Come on, stand it for mommy, Jacey..._

"Are you okay?" A small, worried voice breaks me out.

I look at her in a slightly confused way, then start driving again.

A few minutes pass.

"No," I admit to her out of nothing.

"What?"

"Not for real. I just made that up. Why would I be driving a cramped up cheap Jeep if all that was true?"

"Oh," she only says swiftly. "Okay."

"We're here," I announce with a sharp inhale.

I get out of the car and help the girl-struggling to open the car door-open the damn thing. She smiles sheepishly as I open it with a swift motion, and I lift her out of the car, lock it, then take her to that smokey bar.

* * *

"I want you," I murmur, thinking. "To try this one."

I hand her my drink, and she takes it, eyeing it curiously. "It smells weird."

The bartender shoots me a doubting look. It took me forever to convince him that she is my sister, and that there is no way a sane man would invite his underage sister to a bar.

Not that I'm a sane man, which is even funnier. He'd never know I was the one who killed the girl last time.

"It's okay. Just try a sip."

She does, and immediately her eyes widen. "I don't think..."

"But this is the painless way to get closer to the clouds," I tell her. "I want to make up to you for scaring you."

"But it does hurt," she lifts her chin up and point at her exposed, pale skin of her neck. "Right here."

"Though not as much as the bleeding, right?" I urge the glass into her hand again, and I watch her take another sip. Then another.

Soon, she becomes messy on her seat, drinking with quite ease. I pull her against me, feeling the warmth radiating off her body.

What if I just kill her now? She hasn't been annoying me yet, but it is such a temptation, having a slightly drunk redhead who speaks of innocence but possesses darkness.

"I feel," she tries to speak with her face pressed up against my chest, muffling her words. "Very very weird."

"I may make you feel better," I lower my head, and bury my lips against her soft, curly hair. Then I let my head travel lower to the crook of her shoulder.

Her breath steadies.

I ignore the fact that the bartender might just be watching us. I can only realize how small she really is. And what's that music playing? Slow, but rhythmical. And the lights... The smell of alcohol... It all feels like I'm being hypnotized.

I glide my hands down her arms from her shoulder, squeezing her wrists rather tightly. She lets out a sharp cry, pulling away. I realize it's where she'd tried to 'reach the heaven'.

"It doesn't hurt as much, though, does it?" I ask, pressing my thumb against the bandage once more.

She does flinch away from me, but it's not that abrupt anymore. I hand her another glass of drink, and shortly after taking another shot, the girl passes out against me. Right then, bringing her to my apartment is both the most and the least sensible option I can think of.

Please.

Send me to hell.

* * *

Maybe it's the alcohol, but it all feels so dreamy on the way to my apartment. In a daze, I take the girl out of the car, carry her limp body to my room, lock the door, and put her on my bed.

Except for the occasional moans, she stays quiet on my bedsheet, her hair slightly damp from the sweat. And I decide, that this would be the perfect moment to watch her.

I lightly trace her closed eyelids, her green eyes vivid in my head. And her hair-so bright and such a passionate color. She smells like... Trees. Pine trees. Pink lips that never stop forming a word are now pursed limply.

Suddenly, I find myself inexcusably close to her, kneeling down beside the bed, my arms tossed carelessly around her head, and my lips seeming to almost touch her cheeks.

I'm so cold and hot, the amount of degree where it's impossible to tell between those two, yet her... She is cool and warm. Her cheeks are glowing red, and I just let myself press my lips against her skin.

Should I kiss her, though? On her lips? I let my head hover over hers, my hair barely touching her cheeks. No, I always save that for the killing. This is not how I planned to destroy her.

But I frame her small face with my hands, imagining for one second what it'd feel like.

Oh fuck, what am I doing. This is not like me. Patience, patience, patience...

I almost give it up with my plan. But no, make her destroy herself. Make her break down into flames.

After all, at such a blank space of white, the shades can only turn darker.

 **Hello! Hope you guys are all doing well. So this is the third chapter and I hope you all liked it. Thanks for reading and have a nice day!**


	4. Bloodlust

**Bloodlust**

 _...I'm sorry, but I don't think this can work out..._

 _...I don't think we can work out... ...this family..._

 _...you will find someone better than us..._

 _...we'll miss you..._

 _...goodbye..._

I slowly open my eyes with a catastrophic headache shooting straight through my brain. A moan escapes from my mouth. I find myself on the floor, facing the space under my bed. As I reach up to a small clock on my bedside table, I feel a hold on my shirt, and tense up.

I turn my head around to see a little redhead deep in sleep with her small hand resting on a little spot of my waist. Her curls are tousled carelessly on the wooden floor. How did she get down here from the bed?

Fucking shit, who cares anyways?

Shaking my head, I catch her hand in mine and pull it off my shirt. I stand up, and the clock shows me it's only three quarters past three in the morning.

Striding across the cramped room into the bathroom, I grab at the sink, leaning forward. Pieces of the nightmare from last night come back to me in incoherent pictures. The flat is silent, but a buzzing noise in my ears is suffocating me.

I turn around and rest my eyes on the little girl sleeping peacefully on the floor outside the bathroom. Then, I swing the bathroom door close.

Not having her in my sight helps me think, I realize, staring at the pale blue tiles and my reflection on the mirror just above the sink. I certainly do look like a madman. My hair more like a color of copper gold under the light of bathroom and all ruffled up, I can't help but smirk a little.

So what, now? I've got my prey inside my flat, vulnerable. I won't let her go. Not untouched.

Blood-I need to see blood this time.

I realize I haven't seen much lately.

I also realize there's a small blade inside the bathroom cabinet.

It shines bright through the dusty glass of the cabinet.

I hastily take it out, spinning it around my fingers. The coolness is soon consumed by a hot flame as it slashes the palm of my hand. Whether it was intended or not, I'm not sure myself.

Blood drips into the sink.

 _...drip drip dripdripdripdrip... ...I like the sound of that..._

 _...don't you?..._

Better if it's the sound of _her_ blood.

 _...but it's not hers dammit, it's not hersssssssss..._

"Fuck it," I hiss, slamming my bleeding palm down to the edge of the sink. More red.

I turn the water on, watching the pink pooling inside the sink. Then I kneel down before the toilet and throw up violently. The sound of the water and the waves in my brain find their rhythm together.

After flushing the toilet, I splash the water on my face, glaring at my reflection now.

 _...something needs to be done..._

But what?

 _...a plan, a plan, a Plan, a PLAN..._

.

.

.

I quickly get dressed, brush my teeth, and decide to skip breakfast. I drink some warm water, though, to ease the pain away.

When I realize there is nothing more to be done, I wake her up. On the floor, she remains speechless for a while.

Then, she slightly tips her head as if testing it before she groans.

"Why does everything hurt so much?" She winces out, looking up at me.

"You probably need some fresh air," I tell her nonchalantly. "Why don't we go outside?"

She looks out of my tiny window. "It's still dark outside," she speaks quietly.

"Dark is always good, sweetie," I put my arms lightly around her back, and lead her outside into the darkness under the faint stars.

* * *

I decide to walk to the smokey bar although it takes long to get there by feet. I don't mind, really. But it seems like the redhead does mind. She clutches at her ridiculously green coat which has a faint but definite scent of alcohol-probably embedded there for a long time.

That's when I realize that the coat is a little too big for her.

Shaking my thoughts away, I take my scarf and put it around her neck which easily successes in covering her shoulders too.

"Tha-thank you," she says.

There's another brief silence as both of us walk through the thick snow.

"You're awfully quiet today," I tell her. It is true.

"It's just my head."

"Hey, it's just a few minutes 'till we get there."

"Get where?"

"To the bar I took you yesterday."

"But I don't want to go there today!" She stops walking, her face carved into a scowl. She looks as if she's about to cry.

"We're not going inside the bar-it's not even open yet. we're just going to the parking lot-"

"I want to go home, Sebastian."

"Wait, sweetie-" I pause for a moment, lost of words. "What's wrong?"

"I said. I want to go home."

"What, back to your mommy again? That coat-it's hers, isn't it?"

She stares at me with this unreadable expression on her face. Fucking hell, this is stupid.

This should be my last opportunity to work on my plans. I can't take it further to the bar when she says she wants to go back.

A man, miraculously, is at a payphone, speaking on the phone in a heated moment.

"Look at that man, sweetie," I tell her gently. "Do you hear what he's saying?"

She looks over at the man, then shakes her head. "I just want to go home."

"Home? He has a nice home, you see. His family is nice too, but it seems like the man doesn't know that. Oh, wait. He's yelling at his wife about their son."

"What- what about his son?" She gulps, her eyes widening under the flickering streetlight.

"Something about... An illness."

"An illness?" I watch as the streetlight shadows and lightens her face.

"And... His age. He's very young, I see. And alcohol? And-oh, dear..."

"What. What is it?" Her face turns pale, then quickly floods with red.

I whisper things-dark things in her ears, and she clutches onto the collar of my shirt. I can feel electricity trembling beneath her skin.

"But, the man-" she winces out, taking a look at him again, then burying her face against the crook of my neck. "Is all this true?"

"Such a childhood, isn't it? He must have felt so... _Lonely_."

She flinches at the word.

"And you know it never just stops at the family. The passersby, the peers-it gets marked all over the world. And the boy never really did anything, he was just captured in his room. And the man would've yelled that he doesn't want anyone to know that the boy is breathing inside the house-"

The girl flinches again at the familiar words.

"Now he's perfectly ruined. He'll be stuck in there forever, with the man who doesn't even love him. And the boy will blame himself for it. Saying how it's because he was behaving bad, how he wasn't being a good son..."

Every time I whisper a word, she twists as if being stabbed by a knife continuously.

' _Illness. Age. Alcohol. Illness. Age. Alcohol. Illness. Age. Alcohol._ '

The girl wails out a 'stop'. Her tears slide down against my collarbone, and I can feel her burning sensation turning into a chill as they seep inside under my shirt.

"But nobody?" Her voice doesn't sound sad. Her voice and tears taste like rage. "Nobody loves him?"

"I'm afraid so, sweetie. It was just that man at the beginning. He was too young, you see... Even if someone does love him, it's too late. He's already been broken so many times."

"I... But I..."

I stop whispering and hold her tight in my arms. For a moment, all we can hear is the faint voice of the man on the phone, and the girl's angry hiccough through tears.

"Poor Alex," I say, making up the name of the man's son. "It'd be such a hell to let the man do what he does..."

"Can't you... Can't anyone stop him?"

"I don't know sweetie, maybe you can. But the man is too young to be blamed, I guess..."

"No," she chokes the word out. "But it doesn't work like that."

I smirk. "Then how does it work like?"

I pull away from her to examine her face. Her eyes hold rage and I can see every cells of her body trembling in pain. The flickering streetlight doesn't turn on anymore, leaving everything to empty darkness.

"The man should die," she winces out.

Then, her small body crouches down on the ground, muffling her own screams, taking me by surprise-but a pleasant one.

"Shh- shh, sweetie. What's wrong?" I kneel down, framing her delicate face with my hands, but she refuses to acknowledge me, trembling hysterically.

"I don't know!" She sobs out. "It hurts so much-" she gasps, clutching at her chest. "Right here. It _burns_."

"Calm down," I grab at her shoulder, pressing her down.

"What's happening to me?" The redhead whispers.

She clings onto her own arms, squeezing painfully on her own skin.

I remove her hands from hurting herself, and I take out my blade and force it in her grip.

"Go figure out yourself," I speak quietly-a bit more harshly then I'd wanted to.

Dizzily, she looks down at the object, trying to figure it out.

"You want me to... Send him close to the clouds?"

"Sweetie. Remember how you tried that, but because you were a bad girl, you only got sent to hospital?"

She nods slowly.

"Kill him, sweetie. Isn't that what your heart is speaking to yourself? Stab his heart out of his ribcage-"

She looks shocked and terrified, but I know. She will do it.

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _A.f.t.e.r._

The morning star is rising, and I know it won't be long until the sunrise.

Five minutes ago, the girl took the knife.

Three minutes ago, she disappeared with the man into the dark.

A minute ago, I heard a scream.

It was a sure thing, really. With, or without my help, the girl would have done it someday. I can see pure anger buried deep down inside in her green eyes which speak of innocence. She tries to wear that anger down by being innocent, but God- it was all down her.

It could have erupted any moment, and when I saw her back then when I was peaking through the curtains of her house, I knew innocence cannot stop her. Because I knew what I saw. I felt what I saw. Her cries for help overlapped with mine. Years ago to this present, she and I are the same.

I saw myself within her-she's just pure white to forget it, and I'm dark black to overcome it. But nonetheless, we are the same.

Her eyes bleeding out betrayal, rage, pain... And I could just see, that, when she stops suffocating, when the innocence cannot hold it inside her anymore, she'd do anything. Anything that her fury tells her to do. Any fantasies that she'd had during the days of being locked away in the Love House, ignorance and coldness from the others, including her own mother. Stifling her anger.

Camouflaged with her innocence, she must have thought it was seeping inside her, becoming indifferent. Becoming okay. Every time she murmured 'my fault, my fault'.

But with a simple touch of mine- with a tiny trigger, her innocence turns into betrayer- they all exploded. What had protected her from the pain- the innocence is no longer there, and she just feel her raw skin without its armor burning up in flames.

And even tonight, I'll whisper thousands of 'okay's to her, but she'll know even better than me.

* * *

I find her trembling beside the body.

"What have I done," she whispers, her bloody hands dropping my blade.

I don't have to look at her face to know what she's feeling. I gently pick her up from the ground, and carry her limp body back to her own house as she gasps out a few sobs.

It starts to snow.

 **I came to realize. Quite a lot of people are curious of Jace's age. He's around nineteen, though I never thought the precise number would matter.**

 **Also, if you're curious of the man that.. *cough* clary just killed, he's an ordinary man but you know, Jace kept telling her stuff...**

 **if you really really want to know what made her kill him:**

 **illness, age, alcohol stands for Clary** **and her mom's relationship. Jace also had used words that the mother used to Clary.**

 **And when you see the last part, Jace mentions how Clary had been withholding her anger towards her mother, and since Clary was a bit unstable she was easily affected by it.**

 **-Any questions/constructive criticism/thoughts are welcomed, though I really really hope not to give you guys any spoilers.**

 **-I'll also try to keep updating regularly (I've been updating every Saturday if you noticed)**

 **So there. I hope you liked this chapter and thank you all for reading &reviewing. Have a nice day! :)**


	5. Down - Part 1

**Down - Part 1**

I haven't seen her for a week. Or maybe it has been a day, or maybe even a month. I am not sure. But the cold has started to pass away. I can already smell hyacinth and daffodils from up in my apartment. The snow had melted away from the city, revealing green.

 _Green_. Just like her eyes.

The day that man was killed, shortly before the sunrise, I visited the body again on my own to tear it into pieces and wrap it into a gift. I had sent it to the girl, but there has been no reply since. Still, I've been waiting for her to pay me a visit, which she never did.

 _...Maybe she forgot about you..._

I carefully arrange daffodils on a string, trying to gain some confidence. Me, Jace Herondale needing confidence? Fucking stupid.

Hastily grabbing at the flowers, I head down to the girl's house.

* * *

"Sebastian!" She seems awfully cheerful when I appear on the windowsill of her room in the Love House, able to convince that the incident when we last met never happened. So why hasn't she come see me before she got sent away to the House? She knows where I live.

"Hey, sweetie," I smile charmingly, taking her in my arms.

She squeals joyfully when I twirl her around in the air once. I wonder if this thing-this joyful squeal is something that lovers hold on to. And that lovers, the fucking idiots.

"I thought you were never coming back," she whispers against my neck. Me neither, sweetie. "And flowers!" She yells out happily.

"Well, I thought I'd take you outside, just to compensate for everything we missed out."

Her mouth twists into a grin, excited look all over her face.

"You mean, like a date?"

"A date?" I laugh half heartedly. "You know what that means?"

"Well... Mommy likes to do dates. I think I do know what it means."

"However you put it then," in a flash, I take her up in my arms, making her yelp in surprise.

I look down at her face, first time in so long. She still has that half angelic half tired look on her face, her eyes still green, and her hair still red. Her skin is still cool and warm with freckles still all over.

Something inside my chest heats up when I realize she's studying me the same way.

"So, are you ready or not?" I ask, and she encloses her hands on the back of my neck.

I jump off the window sill, wrapping my body around hers, expecting a harsh landing. I try my best to land like I'm by myself, but the impact is strong enough to make both of us with headache.

The early afternoon air is fresh and warm.

We lie there for a moment after I unwrap my arms just like when we jumped out of the hospital. Except we're on grass instead of snow. She suddenly giggles like it was the funniest thing ever. I offer her a smile in return, but when we get weird looks from some teens around, I suddenly feel the urge to slap her until she shuts up.

"Come on, let's hurry before one of those guys blow our ass up," I stand, picking at the grass sticking up on my clothes.

"That's very likely, actually," the redhead says quietly. "They really tried that once, you know."

I am taken aback, but not really. "And how did that happen?" I put my arms around her shoulder, starting to lead her to an isolated side of the fence.

"I found something under my bed. Tick tock, tick tock," she laughs loudly, and I find myself looking at her in an amusement.

 _...tick tock, tick tock..._

"Now sweetie, I'm going to carry you on my back, so I need you to hold on tight, okay?"

She nods and I start to climb up the fence.

Every time I'd climbed over this fence, it was just me. So what's different about now?

Right. I smack my head in my mind. The _business_ is different. Still, there is something I can't quite catch up with in my mind.

* * *

The girl is in awe at the sight of the arcade. I never really thought she'd be the kind for bubbly games and flashing lights. But then again, I barely know her after all.

"Let me take you downstairs," I speak in her ears so she can hear through the squeals of people.

"But," she looks up at me with a frown. "Can't we try... That one?" She points at one of the gaming stations.

"I doubt you'd like it, sweetie. Yet, downstairs, it's so much more-"

"Oh my god! Look at that!" She squeals excitedly at one of the games with the seats. "Can we try it? Pretty pretty please?"

She gives me the eye and looking down at those eyes only urges me to stab her until they lose their green light. I close my eyes, gaining controls on my wants. My patience wears thin, and the girl isn't helping much right now.

But she is already running on the thick carpet to the seat now, trying to get it moving.

"Seb," she calls out for me as she finds it motionless.

Exhaling quietly, I follow her to the station and operate it.

"Alright, you take this gun right here," I detach it from the machine and put it in her grip. "And you shoot straight through."

A deep voice comes out and babbles instructions on reloading and shooting.

"But wouldn't the screen be damaged if I shoot?" She furrows her eyebrows, fumbling with the fake gun.

"No, no, sweetie," I tell her, giving her a small laugh. "It's fake. See?" I pretend to shoot at her with it, and she flinches. Even if I just said it was fake, the moment had been so genuine, it's hard to withhold myself from dragging her into the restroom.

"But then how would I kill the bad people?"

"Don't worry about that," I hold on to the gun only slightly as she reaches back for it. "Bad people always end up dead."

"I thought that happens to everybody," she takes the gun wholly. "Everyone dies someday, right?"

"True that," I nod, giving her a look of approval. "I guess you-"

She presses 'start' and cuts me off. I study her as she falls into the depth of her new mission; kill everyone on the train. Something seems to be out of her. Maybe it's just that she's concentrating on the game, or maybe not. If it's the latter, I'm sure today is going to be a hard, but amusing day.

Soon enough, she finishes the game and hops down from the seat indifferently. "Let's go downstairs now."

"Was it fun? The game?" I inquire carefully.

She pauses for a moment, putting on her thinking face. "You were right. It's not exactly my thing, I guess."

This time, she follows me downstairs, and the air starts to grow thicker as we descend down the stairs. The view here is definitely different from upstairs aside from the same, thick carpet. I expect the redhead to say something-anything, either showing dismay or excitement at the sight of a pool hall. But she remains quiet, and I know I should probably root for the latter from my earlier thoughts.

She looks around the pool tables placed under the dim light, then turns her gaze to meet mine.

"Have you been here before?" She asks, casting an anxious frown.

"A few times," I answer swiftly, brushing her shoulder lightly. "It's fine, sweetie. Nothing bad is going to happen."

"I don't think... I don't think I like this place."

"Don't worry about the stinking air. It's underground, after all," she still looks tensed up, studying a few guys at a table only few feet away from us. "Come on, relax. Here, let me teach you how to play."

The girl closes the difference between us, still looking a little anxious but listening to me nonetheless.

"This," I start, handing her a cue stick. "Is called a cue stick. Hold it like this."

She hastily grabs at it, trying to imitate my hold.

"Relax the grip on the back hand a little," I point out. "And put your other hand a bit further away from your body."

I explain the rules to her and let her play by herself for now, leaning against the wall and watching her struggle with the cue stick too long for her.

As time goes by, I check my watch and realize it's still only a quarter past two. When she pots the 8-ball, I sigh and approach behind her to touch her arms lightly. "Ninety degrees exactly, remember?" I let my voice drop down as I speak into her ears.

Startled by my intervention, she turns back to face me.

"Eyes on the table, sweetie," I tell her with a smile on. "Your feet are mixed up too. Put your right foot on the front."

The redhead shifts nervously as I press myself against the her back. "I don't know if I'm doing this okay..."

"You're doing perfectly fine," enveloping her small body in my arms, I fold my hand over hers to guide the cue stick for her. "Closer to the table," I inhale softly, breathing in her virgin scent. A real angel she is. Pretty captivating too.

Such a shame I'd have to kill her, but I guess that's what it makes her all much more idealized.

I spot a few boys snickering at another table, looking at us. The girl senses them too, and immediately tenses up under my touch. Then I realize that her attention is all on one specific teenage boy.

"Sebastian?" She faintly addresses me, her eyes still on the boy.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I feel sick."

"Do you... Want to go home?" I ask carefully. I can see recognition in her eyes. And darkness- fucking hell, her green eyes have turned a shade darker.

She turns around in my embrace to face me. Then she buries her flushed face into the crook of my neck, muffling out a painful something between a scream and a whine.

Caught by surprise, I take a step back away from her, and instantly regret it. Her face is the color of a deep dark rose, stressed with emotions.

"Sweetie?" I speak out from the silence.

"I think there's something wrong with me," she whispers, her eyes glassy with tears.

I glance back at the boy who now has attention on his own pool game.

"My chest is starting to hurt," she tells me silently, turning her head and setting her eyes on the boy too. "And my throat. And my head."

We both stare at the young boy, oblivious of the attention we're giving him. I know who he is. A dark boy from her dark past, I suppose. Finally sensing two gazes on him, he looks up at us.

"Oh my god," the redhead winces out, twirling around and clutching at the pool table.

I realize we've gained people's interest, so I lift her up from the ground into my hold and bring her back upstairs fast.

"Sweetie," I say when I take her to the corner of the room. "Are you okay?"

"Please put me down," she says and I quickly obey. But as soon as her feet are on the ground, she collapses into a ball on the floor, pulling at her hair rather aggressively and making a painful noise.

Dumbfounded, I stand frozen on the ground for a few seconds, then regain my guard and posture. I take a pocketknife out from my jacket, and kneel down beside her.

She looks at me with crimson eyes, and I'm briefly taken aback by its passion and fierceness. I drop the knife to the floor with a small thud as it lands on the thick carpet, and the girl's eyes travel down to the small spot it'd resting on.

Neither of us breathe until she slowly picks it up, her eyes wavering on mine.

* * *

The air is still quite warm outside.

"So where do you want to go next?" I ask, strolling down the street with her hand in mine.

She has taken a nap in the park, and now, the sun is getting a little fainter, the sky a little darker.

"I wouldn't care, really," she looks down at her feet as she walks, and I'm sure her head is now simply filled with blood and death by now.

"Oh, come on," I squeeze her hands lightly. "Let's have fun, today, okay?"

The redhead nods slowly as if to test it out.

"Shall we eat first, then?"

"That Italian restaurant?" She squints.

"Why not?"

With the bright and cheerful light inside the restaurant and the soft music playing out, it almost feels like a date. Not that I've ever went on a date or whatever, but...

It's also pleasantly warm inside, making me drowsy and thick.

"So what did you think of the arcade?" I decide to chat up with her while we wait for our food.

"It was... New, I guess."

"You didn't quite like it?"

She shrugs, touching the napkin neatly arranged on the table.

"He was a-" She inhales sharply. "He was someone I knew."

I nod carefully, my eyes tensed up on hers.

"Did he ever... Hurt you?"

She looks down onto her salad plate, eyelids fluttering repeatedly. "Is there something wrong with me?" She whispers.

"Maybe," I tap my fingers lightly on the table.

"There's something growing hard in my chest whenever... Whenever..." She looks up at me, and her usually cheerful green eyes are now sick with frustration. "I don't think I can go up to the clouds, Sebastian."

"Don't worry about that, sweetie. Sometimes, we all go down."

And she's falling. Pretty damn hard.

A laughter erupts from a couple sitting behind me. The funny thing about the booth seatings is that you often sit closer to a stranger rather than a family member, a friend, or a lover.

Karen- our waitress serves us with two plates of pasta and a small pizza. After she leaves, the girl and I eat in silence.

"The food here sucks," I twirl the fork lazily inside the plate, and she nods in agreement. "I never thought pasta would taste like a rubber duck."

"Oh no, not the rubber ducks..." She says quietly, rolling her eyes.

"What about them?"

"They are _yellow_ , don't you get it?" She stares at me with wide eyes.

I lean back in my booth, studying her carefully with a lazy grin on my lips. "Sweetie, come over here, would you?"

She obeys, sitting beside me and looking up at me with curiosity.

"There's something on your neck," my voice is quiet and steady as I reach out to her soft, pale neck, brushing her fiery hair away.

The feel of her skin sends shivers down my arms to my brain, and without thinking, I lean in and press my lips on that very spot of her neck.

"Shh," I whisper when she gasps in surprise. "Stay still, sweetie."

"Sebastian?" Her voice contains confusion and anxiousness when I suck lightly on her skin, as if she senses the atmosphere as intense as it is.

I gather her body against me with my arms wrapping around her, inhaling the soft scent of hers. She is so small- too small, and it feels like if I give just a slight more pressure of my grasp on her, she might break.

"Have you ever been broken, sweetie?" I murmur with my lips still against her skin, kissing the spot as lightly as a feather.

"I..."

But dammit, I want to fuck her. I want to fuck her hard and quietly and break her. It will break her indeed. Her small body is so delicate, I bet it will break apart the second I ram into her. Then I'll perhaps finish her up with a knife through her heart. Maybe I'll keep the heart myself.

 **So there's actually much more to this chapter that I've already written, but I decided that would make it too long, so yes. Part 2 will be up for the next update. After all, a lot happened these few days so I couldn't really put a lot of thoughts into this chapter, and I know this one may have sucked.** **I promise Part 2 will be better than this.**

 **Well, thank you for reading this chapter, and for the reviews. Hope you have a nice day.**


	6. A Few Things

**-I'm incredibly sorry. I know I haven't updated for a while, and I just haven't finished my chapter quite well yet.**

 **-Perhaps I can update the following weekend?**

 **-Doubled, I'm also sorry that you guys might have been hoping that this would be another chapter, so I'll post a pointless-maybe-but-still sneak peak as an apology.**

"Sebastian!" A voice erupts from the pants and moans. The redhead's voice. "Sebastian!"

I swear loudly, picturing her body writhing against mine. To stifle a moan, I bite down onto the girl's pulse, but push into her faster and harder nonetheless. The redhead's voice calling my name gets louder and louder, and I slowly reach toward my jacket for a blade.

 _...but you want to have the cake and eat it too..._

 _...Choose!..._

 _...Such a softie..._

Laughter erupts in my head.

But I know what I want.

Pinning her against her soft bed in the Love House, fucking her slowly but hard with a knife against her jugular, whispering dark things into her ears, tasting that pine trees scent of hers, her screaming my name out-

"Sebastian!" The restroom door opens with a creak.

"Oh, shit," I spring apart from my thoughts and the blondie.

"Uh..." the redhead blinks a few times and I hastily push another girl away, hearing a loud crack as her head hits the mirror, making her pass out.

"Sweetie," I say a little breathlessly while I quickly put on my jeans. "I thought I'd told you to wait."

 **So... *awkward cough* that was short, I know. But I didn't want to give you any scenes that would a) bore you, or b) confuse you.**

 **And maybe I can leave you all wondering wtf is wrong is Jace and have a nice day, y'all!**


	7. Down - Part 2

**Down - Part 2**

Despite my rather dark childhood, there still were the days when I was a young boy, dreaming of a world where I could rule everything. Sadly, that didn't turn out to be realistic. So when they told me I needed a future, I couldn't think of one.

Instead, I thought of an escapade. It was unremarkable, really. I just decided to fall in love with a place.

"So this is it? Your favorite place?" She squints through the rays of sunset. "It's a little... Less cheerier than I thought it would be."

An abandoned street. I inevitably, irresistibly fell in love with it. Because it was just simply normal to be broken there.

"The concept of cheery, is a concept of foolishness, don't you agree?" I smirk, sitting down beside a pile of ruins. I pat the spot next to me, motioning at her to sit.

She gasps as she carelessly sit down on the dirt ground. "Maybe you're right. Happy people all die, you know."

"You're not happy?" I inquire carefully.

"Of course I'm happy, I have the world's greatest friend sitting next to me in his favorite place and the sun is just starting to set, and everything is pretty!"

Then she's right again. She _is_ going to die, alright.

 _...Jacey, make mommy happy, please..._

 _...Mommy is so sad..._

 _...But remember, there are always prices to pay..._

 _...KILL HER..._

I fumble with a blade in my pocket, closing my eyes stressfully. Blood. And violence.

"Come here," my voice is quiet and soft though, the gentleness I never thought I was capable of.

When she scoots closer to me, I put my arm around her shoulder in a half hug. As soon as she realizes that, she lets out a long stutter of breath as if relieved.

"So what do you think?" I nod at the sunset. "Pretty, isn't it?"

She nods, thinking.

"It won't last long, though," I speak gently, studying her suddenly delicate expression.

"When I was little, mommy once took me to the top of a mountain just to watch a sunset," she says, her face looking relaxed and mature. "She told me we could both be there one day, but you said... You said the key to the paradise is _blood_."

It's so quiet, I can hear my own breathing right now. I drive my foot down to the dirt ground, causing a small storm of brown.

"So sometimes, Sebastian..." She starts again, her eyelashes fluttering. "I get scared. Because I don't know if it's how it's supposed to be. Sometimes, I think I hear things, things no one else can hear. And they start to scream because they're sad and angry, and I think it's because they want to go up to the clouds, but they can't."

"You mean they're condemned."

"Do you think I'm one of them?"

"It doesn't matter, sweetie. I lied. No one really goes up to the clouds. Not for real, anyways."

"I won't believe that. I refuse to."

It's amazing how one's desperation works. When it can't come true, you search for it in another place. Heaven and hell, and all in between, but goddammit, how can that be? How does that work anyways?

I was never a religious person from the first place. Too busy for my own troubles to care about the troubles after that.

"Look, the sun sets really fast," she says quietly.

"All the happy things do, sweetie."

How scientifically wrong I am, though. The sun stays still. It's us that's running away.

"It's almost gone now," her voice drops down to a whisper.

"It'll come back up soon. Tomorrow. We've already gotten through plenty much of nights, haven't we?"

"Sebastian."

"Yes?"

There's a long silence between us as she closes her eyes for a second, then opens again.

"I know we haven't met for long, but you're pretty much... The only thing that ever made me _happy_."

I sit speechless, completely taken aback. Not by the fact that I make her happy, but by the fact that she has thought of that and put it into a coherent sentence.

To me, she is an innocent, weak prey, simple and blank just like that. Young, that's what she's like. At least what she used to be like. I never thought she could be capable of actually feeling.

Is it the sunset that's changing us? The melancholy mood?

"I shouldn't be," I finally breathe out. "The only one, sweetie."

"I can't lie, though. The story you told me about... The story about the man's son at the payphone... That's my story, Sebastian. No one loved me."

Her eyes glitter warm from tears, reflecting the orange rays from the almost dead sun. I wonder if this is the time to say I love her.

It's an easy job. Just saying those three simple words. I'm a psychopath. I don't feel any guilt or hesitation. I can say things swiftly and easily.

"I am..." I breathe deeply, looking down into her green eyes full of desperation. For love? "So sorry. Sweetie."

It was a mistake, for fuck's sake, to bring her here. To my childhood redemption. It's turning me back into a child. A young innocent heartbroken boy I used to be.

But I lean down anyways, our face inching closer and closer. Her eyes are closed, but I can see heartbreak and loneliness. Aching for love.

I lose sense of the distance between our lips. Maybe they're touching already, I'm not sure. Her warm breath fans onto my own lips, infecting me with her illness. Now I feel the ache too. The yearning for love.

We stay like that for seconds, maybe even minutes. Voices that dwell inside my head have now turned into a silence. Leaving it to us and the sunken sun.

"Tell me, Sebastian," she suddenly speaks quietly. "Tell me a story. A good one."

I inhale shakily, lost of words.

"It doesn't have to be a happy story, though," she urges me. "Happy stories die fast too."

I lean back against the pile of ruins, rolling around my brain.

"Once upon a time," I finally get the words out of my mouth. "There was a boy with beautiful blond hair, pure at heart. He doesn't remember anything, but he knows that on his very first birthday, monsters have come and taken his mommy and daddy away from him. Then, he was brought to a place full of extraordinary children like himself. He spent many years there, and he was taught to be grateful for the food and clothes that was given to him."

"But he wasn't loved."

"Of course not. Extraordinary children don't get love," I touch a strand of her soft hair, hesitating.

"So?"

"So he was happy when a nice looking lady came to take him. But the lady needed money, he realized. And one day on his sixth year when he fell down from stairs and broke his leg, he found the lady very happy. She took good care of him, showed him warmth, and because he ached for love so long, he decided he should injure himself more often. So from that day, he fell down the stairs when he got better, and every time he got sent to hospital, the lady would buy a new pair of earrings or a new bottle of perfume."

"But where did she get the money for that?"

"Falling down from stairs can give you money, sweetie. Don't you know?"

"Oh."

"But one day, the stairs got tired of giving money away. So the lady took the boy to a young couple. The boy thought they'd be happy too if he jumped out of the window. But they weren't. In fact, they got scared, and in a week, he got sent to another couple. The woman was very nice, but after a couple of months, she was taken by a monster too. That's when the man started to change. He was a peculiar man, really. He drank a lot and he liked sharp things."

"That sounds a lot like mommy."

"Yes, sweetie. But he was a very strong man and he wanted to show it to keep monsters away. So he began to hit the little boy. Lock him up like a prisoner, and prepared to give the monsters a show, burning him with cigarettes, knocking him off the ground, stabbing him with the sharp things he liked. For two years and a half, the boy was scared of dark."

I pause for a while, shuddering from the images of the past. The horror, the blood.

"That's when the young boy realized, he wasn't pure at heart anymore. He was tainted. And when hunters came to get the peculiar man, the boy got a new home with a happy family. But the happy family soon realized they were too happy to live with such an unhappy boy. So the boy moved to another family, to another family, to another family, until he understood he didn't belong to anywhere. So the boy was sent back to the place for extraordinary children."

"The place where no one gets love?"

"Yes, and even worse, because of his tainted heart, he was the new target for everyone. Eventually, at the age of thirteen, he ran away from the place, fending off monsters on his own and selling candies for living. He slept in public restrooms at night because monsters come from cold and from people."

"Were the monsters coming after him?"

"Monsters are after all extraordinary children, sweetie. But one winter night of his sixteenth year when he was nearly caught by the monsters, a lady dressed in red came to pick him up. She gave him food and bed, but he had to know, the lady was a very unhappy person. And the young boy felt obliged to make her happy despite his tainted heart. So he did. Every night, he made her happy, he made her run away from a heartbreak of her past. Then he was no longer a young boy anymore. He was now a grown man, raised to be a demon with dark heart barely beating. He didn't want the lady happy anymore, because she made him feel upset. But what he had to understand is, he had no other way. His heart was already beating the same as hers, and there was no way to escape from her. So to this day, his tainted heart has turned him into a monster, and he no more has to escape from the monsters anymore now that he is one of them himself."

"So did he get a happily ever after?"

"You'll have to ask him yourself, sweetie."

"But Sebastian-"

She cuts herself off, looking down at her feet. Cold wind wail in the broken wasteland, catching her hair in its destructive embrace.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispers.

I have no idea what to think of. She's young, but not that young, I realize. She has a dark heart of her own. So what did I want this story to become of?

Did I want her to understand I am the young boy with tainted heart so I could get pitied down to, or did I just simply wanted to get out my depressing sob story?

She gently rests her head on my shoulder, both of us staring into the dark void as the light from the sun has perished. And I feel something terribly hollow I my soul.

Please don't get me wrong. I'm not an emotional man. But I won't lie, I'm feeling inexcusably emotional right now. In my childhood place, after a beautiful sunset that I never believed I could find beauty in, a girl in my arms-and dammit, if my life was just a little different, she could've been a lover. A child of my own. A grandchild, maybe. But no, that's not my life, and I am, I admit, sad.

Sad.

Just sad.

Three simple letters.

Nothing was ever simple in my life, though.

Everyone is sentimental deep in their heart, I guess.

But the question is, do I have a heart at all?

* * *

Neon lights flash through the darkness.

Back to being a cold hearted psychopath. Back to control, back to plan.

"How about we watch a movie?" I suggest when I spot a movie theater.

"A movie?"

"Wait, don't tell me you have never watched a movie."

"Actually, I have. Once."

I arch my eyebrows in a mock approval, putting my arms around her shoulders. "Alright, then. Shall we try your second one?"

I guide her into the small building and buy tickets for an action comedy movie.

When we enter, the girl flinches at the darkness of the room, but I soothe her and take her to the seats.

"You sure you don't want popcorns?" I ask as she leans back on the seat in a comfy way, her legs swinging back and forth. It's quite endearing, and I bet I can find it a lot more endearing if they were shaking violently from the grasp of death.

She squints thoughtfully. "I don't think Andrew ever liked them."

"Why not?" I decide to play along with her imaginary friends.

"I'm not sure. But he got killed while eating them, so maybe that's why."

Before I can answer her, a blonde girl sits down beside me. She seems hot and bold, and I can't think of any reason not to fuck and kill her until the stupid redhead gives out a short laugh.

I slowly turn back to her. "What is it?"

"It's just that she looks so much like Meredith," she giggles, then halts into a serious expression. "Meredith..." Her voice turns into a mumble when the room darkens even more as the movie finally starts.

She doesn't speak even once during the movie, concentrating. I examine her face carefully from the light illuminated by the screen. It's taut with tension as she nibbles down on her lower lip with her eyes focusing on the screen.

Her strained lips have now earned my interest, and I lean in closer to be able to savor her soft scent of woods. Then, I swear softly as a hand comes upon to rest on my thigh, momentarily mistaking its owner with the redhead. But her face hasn't changed an inch, and when I turn back to the blondie, her smirk gives away.

I lean back against my seat, acting nonchalantly, but it takes effort to swallow the darkness pooling in my head.

 _...Blooooooooooddddddd fresh blooooooooooodddddd..._

Shut up. Shut up. Shutupshutupshutup-

The blondie's hand touches my erection, and I close my eyes to think.

"Oh fuck," I swear once again when my hand disobeys my brain and finds the cold texture of a blade inside my pocket.

I stare momentarily at the blondie and with a wink, she leaves. The poisonous waves in my head grow in their volumes.

"Sweetie, I-" I turn back to the redhead, blinking. "I think I will go buy some of that popcorns for myself. Wait here for me, okay?"

.

.

.

I push the girl up to the sink in the women's restroom. She moans excitedly as I travel my hands down her neck, breasts, stomach, and in between her legs.

Black dress, pale face, limp body... I realize it suits for a funeral. Ridiculous. But I still decide to keep her dress on. Instead, I hitch it up above her waist, discard her underwear, and bury my lips on her wet spot.

"Sweetie..." The word slips between my lips involuntarily when her legs wrap around my head.

The blondie grabs at my hair tightly, moaning loudly as I push my tongue inside her. She takes my shirt off, and only when I'm met with the cold air, I realize my body is burning.

 _...Sebastian, please... ...don't stop... ...fuck me_ , Jace _..._

The mocking voice inside my head that resembles the redhead's teases me to death. If I fuck her, I'll make sure she screams my real name.

While I travel my lips up to her stomach to her neck, a pair of hands quickly undo my jeans and my boxers.

 _...flesh... ...finally..._

I claw at her thighs, pushing her legs wide open. Scent of blood rises from the scratch. I tear more at her flesh, feeling hot liquid greeting my fingers. _Red_. I groan at the thought.

Finally pushing myself into her, I recieve the full recall of a hunt. I haven't done this for so long. Too long. With the scent of a girl's blood clouding my head, I grind into her.

"Sebastian!" A voice erupts from the pants and moans. The redhead's voice. "Sebastian!"

I swear loudly, picturing her body writhing against mine. To stifle a moan, I bite down onto the girl's pulse, but push into her faster and harder nonetheless. The redhead's voice calling my name gets louder and louder, and I slowly reach toward my jacket for a blade.

 _...but you want to have the cake and eat it too..._

 _...Choose!..._

 _...Such a softie..._

Laughter erupts in my head.

But I know what I want.

Pinning her against her soft bed in the Love House, fucking her slowly but hard with a knife against her jugular, whispering dark things into her ears, tasting that pine trees scent of hers, her screaming my name out-

"Sebastian!" The restroom door opens with a creak.

"Oh, shit," I spring apart from my thoughts and the blondie.

"Uh..." the redhead blinks a few times and I hastily push another girl away, hearing a loud crack as her head hits the mirror, making her pass out.

"Sweetie," I say a little breathlessly while I quickly put on my jeans. "I thought I'd told you to wait."

"I, uh... I was trying to look for you but I saw a few police officers-"

"Fucking shit," I groan, my mind still blurry. "Are you sure, sweetie?"

She nods nervously. "You're not mad, are you, Sebastian?"

"Come on," I shake my head, grabbing her hand. "We've got to hurry."

Apparently, having the girl kill someone in a busy arcade was a mistake. And they've found us.

We make a dash outside the restroom and towards the emergency exit of the theater. A loud screaming of the fire alarm consumes the faint sirens outside when I open the door.

The sun is gone, and the emergency stairs are barely illuminated by the dim light coming from the building.

"Faster, sweetie," I pull her forward as we run down the stairs, but her short legs can't keep up. "Fucking hell," I pick her up in my arms, cradling her body gently as I speed up.

Thumps of other footsteps echo behind me, making the girl scream in distress.

"Hold on tight," I murmur when a bullet hisses past my shoulder. Then I lift myself up to the railings, and throw both of us into the air, crashing straight to the parking lot.

There are a few gunshots, and I find myself pressing down on the redhead's body, encasing it completely between the ground and me.

"Stay still, sweetie," I take a deep breath. "Stay still."

Then I flip our position over, my back to the ground and her back to my bare chest. She gasps when I take my blade out and press it against her neck.

The gunshots stop.

I can make out three men standing on the third story, all of their guns rested on the railings and pointed at us. Unspoken threats pass between us.

There's a brief silence until one of them shouts something, but I can't hear it when it's consumed by the sound of blood whooshing into my head. The girl trembles violently, and the bleeding of my shoulder pumps adrenaline into my veins.

Then I throw the blade away, wrap my arms around her, and roll across the parking lot. A few more bullets resume to be fired, and I push the girl and myself underneath the nearest car. The narrow hiding place presses us tightly together and I pull her closer to me, tucking her head under my chin.

"It's okay, it's okay," I whisper hoarsely, trying to come up with a plan. The car is providing us protection for now, but when the police gets to us by feet, we're damned.

"Sebastian-"

"Shh," I close my eyes for a brief second. "Not now, sweetie."

Footsteps down the emergency stairs are growing louder and louder.

"Hold on tight."

Then, I roll both of us underneath a car parked next to. A pebble sticks into my injured shoulder, eliciting a groan out of me. No more close car to hide under.

The parking lot now echoes with thumps of footsteps toward us, and I push the girl off me gently in the narrow space. "Wait here for me, sweetie."

Then I lunge out of the space under a car, sprinting toward one of the cops with his back on me in my full speed. I barely hear the gunshots fire through the strong breeze brushing past my face. Lacking of time to grab a blade, I hit the back of his head with my elbow, dazing him for a while as I snatch a gun out of his grasp. I shoot him first.

Then, I fire it myself among the loud gunshots in the parking lot. _Sweetie_.

If I were to be sane, I probably couldn't stand two men with guns, but I'm a reckless psychopath. And unfortunately for them, those men are the ones for morality. And I have nothing to go back to after the fight.

 _...Aw, but what about the dear little sweetie under the car?..._

Shaking the image of the girl lost on the concrete ground away, I shoot recklessly. Just shooting without a coherent aim.

With my sight blurry, I know they're gone only when I hear no more gunshots besides from my own. I walk quietly to the car and find her trembling from fear.

Picking her up in my arms, I realize she's been crying. "Shh, sweetie. It's okay now."

"I wish," she inhales sharply. "I wish, you could go back to the sunset."

Not I wish I could go back to the sunset, but I wish _you_ could go back to the sunset. Does she know? Does she understand the swirling emotions burning passionately underneath my hard skin? Because if she does, I am truly damned.

 **And a very long chapter after a very long break!**

 **-I apologize for the late update, and also for high possibility of this chapter being flawed. My brain is drowning, I'm pretty sure. If there's anything you'd like to correct out, please tell me, I'll correct it right away.**

 **-And thank you all for your patience and tolerance. I know I can be very annoying, and I'm glad you guys are still reading this and reviewing.**

 **-If some things were unclear in this chapter, just ask or whatever. I don't bite. Especially for the Jace's past part. I know I kinda made it blurry cuz I wanted it to be like a 'simple plain story' told to 'a young little girl' you see. So if you didn't understand something, just ask away!**

 **-And hey, congratulations on reading 3996 words so far online(forgive me...?)**

 **-Okay, now I'll stop rambling on and on. I'm just excited to post something again. So thanks again for everything, and please tell me what you thought of this update!**


	8. Angels

**Angels**

 **(WARNING: some scenes might be a little disturbing. It depends.)**

The girl remains silent as I take her back to the Love House. I don't really blame her. Not after what she has seen.

Oh, so what, now? I must be a big bad wolf in a sheep's clothing? But I secretly wish she hadn't seen that side of me. The violent, bloodthirsty side that should be damned.

Thoughts whirl around my brain. Too many thoughts. Too many since I've met her.

I lead her to the rusty fence of the Love House, pausing and turning around to face her. "You probably can't forget what happened tonight, can you?"

"I'll try, I guess."

"Good. Because... You know people aren't happy when others remember things. You don't want to make them unhappy, right, sweetie?"

She nods, but looks a little distant. That's when I realize she's staring shamelessly at my bare chest. I've gotten that looks a lot. A lot of girls, dirty old motel rooms, _sex_. But tonight, I really don't know how to deal with it. How to deal with her.

Still, I have to admit.

It is in a certain way, sexy.

"Right," I inhale sharply, for a while, suddenly feeling an urge to sweep her up in my arms and run away from this sick place. But to where? To my sick place? Am I really that childish?

So instead, I give her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

* * *

Underneath the moonlight, I take a deep breath and break open the window again.

"Hello," she says shyly, as if she'd almost expected me to come at this very moment.

"It's pretty cold again," I speak nonchalantly, shuffling my coat as I walk swiftly into the room. For about a week, I'd visited her room-304-daily ever since our little date. Not because I was feeling friendly or anything... I needed to guarantee her that I, for a fact, am not a bloody murderer and that I will never ever hurt her.

As I walk closer to her, she runs up to me from her small squeaky bed, then stops abruptly as if hesitating. There's an awkward hug as I initiate it. But her small wrap of warmth makes me reluctant to let go. Not because I'm in any way, sentimental-I'm not making the same mistake again-but simply for I am so cold, and she is so warm.

 _...Liar..._

And because I seek for warmth everyday. Scarcity doesn't necessarily mean numbness.

 _...But your hunts... ...The scarcity is numbing your wants and pleasures... ...Kill... ...Again..._

But not until I'm done with her. The little redhead.

"You are so cold," she murmurs, sitting down on her bed with a creak.

"Mm," I smile tightly. "Cold is good sometimes."

 _...Liar..._

 _...Jacey._..

 _...Make mommy warm again..._

With my fire. She used my fire. And I can never have it back.

My smile drops and I rub my knuckles against my left eyebrow. Hurts.

 _...You know what cold means..._

 _...It means..._

 _...Death!..._

I try to hide my pain, the distraction, but of course the redhead notices. "Are you okay?"

"Mmhm," I nod slowly. "Mind if I sit down for a while?"

I clench my eyes shut, trying not to think, which is an excellent way of thinking. Beads of sweat run down my forehead as I wait for another pang of pain.

Nothing.

Relieved, I open my eyes and spot worry in her green eyes. "I'm okay... I'm okay, it's just some... headache."

"You've been getting quite a lot of headache these days..." She hesitantly touch my damp hair and I flinch away as a laughter full of pride erupts in my head.

"I'm okay, I really am," I half-aggressively pull her hand away from me.

"Maybe it's one of those... Brain cancer. Like, when a demon lives inside your head and pound at it whenever it's angry."

"Who told you that, sweetie?"

"Mommy, of course. Some days... I think she has one, too. The brain cancer. Her head gets... Evil, sometimes. Isn't that what demons do?"

"Demons destroy people down to its dust," I murmur slowly. "I'm pretty sure your mommy does have one living up inside her."

"But you... You don't have one, right? Not you..."

"Of course not," I let out a bitter laugh. But I hope it sounded like a sweet one to her.

"Oh, I knew it!" She exclaims delightfully. "You are an angel, aren't you?"

Obviously, sweetie. I just happen to be fallen.

"Yes," I whisper sweetly. "Yes, I am."

"Then tell me, tell me something about them," she says, as she lies down on her bed, pulling up the sheets under her chin. "Something good."

"They're white... Or golden," I give her a little smile, leaning down, but not quite touching her. "They sing and dance and laugh among the mortal misery until they fall."

"I heard they are beautiful, aren't they?"

"Beautiful as sins."

She touches my cheekbone gently and traces it down to my jaw. "Pretty," her eyes close for a while and open again. "Prettiest thing I've ever seen."

"There was this one time... The sun was setting and I was at some kind of a deserted beach."

"You seem to have some kind of a fetish for deserted places," she squints her eyes, and I can tell that she's recalling my sentimental eyes back at the abandoned street.

"Yeah, well that beach... That was a hell of a beauty. That was the prettiest thing I've ever seen. It was all red and orange and passionate... And tides were rolling in within my heartbeats, and those were the only things I could hear."

"You are pretty poetic," she says, closing her eyes once more, and she keeps them like that. "I've never been to a beach before, though."

"For real?" She'd like a beach. Matches her passionate personality. I picture her soaked up with water under the setting sun. Laughing while running around. She probably wouldn't know the effect she would have on me, all wet like that. How she'd drive me crazy... I lower my head down to the crook of her neck, pondering whether to press my lips against her skin. "I promise I'd take you one day."

"That'd be great," she giggles, alarmed by my cold breath on her skin. "You know, Sebastian... You should come a little earlier next time. I feel so tired."

"Okay," my voice is quiet as she shifts around to find a comfortable posture for sleep. "Good night."

"Not just yet, though..."

I stare at her closed eyes for a while, lost of words. What to say. What to do.

"You asked me..." I finally start. "About angels."

She remains so silent, waiting, I almost assume she is already asleep. I take a deep breath, unbelieving what I am about to do.

 _...But it is all for an act... ...Right, Jacey?..._

 _...RIGHT?..._

" _When first we met she seemed so white_

 _I feared her;_

 _As one might near a spirit bright_

 _I neared her;_ "

Her mouth twitches up slightly in a half-sleep, and I can tell she likes it.

" _An angel pure from heaven above_

 _I dreamed her,_

 _And far too good for human love_

 _I deemed her._ "

I cannot breathe. I literally cannot, and I just sit there, my perspiration soaking me into some kind of a hell that you see when you are not to be saved from the fall when you are desperate for it.

 _...Des...perate?..._

 _...Foolish boy..._

" _A spirit free from mortal taint_

 _I thought her,_

 _And incense as unto a saint_

 _I brought her._ "

Like whispering a prayer in front of a devil, I slowly continue.

" _Well, incense burning did not seem_

 _To please her,_

 _And insolence I feared she'd deem_

 _To squeeze her;_

 _Nor did I dare for that same why_

 _To kiss her,_

 _Lest, shocked, she'd cause my eager eye_

 _To miss her,_

 _I sickened thinking of some way_

 _To win her,_

 _When lo! she asked me, one fine day,_

 _To dinner!_ "

Her breathing is steady, and I know she's asleep now.

'' _'Twas thus that made of common flesh_

 _I found her,_

 _And in a mortal lover's mesh_

 _I wound her,_

 _Embraces, kisses, loving looks_

 _I gave her,_

 _And buying bon-bons, flowers and books_

 _I save her;_

 _For her few honest, human taints_

 _I love her..._ "

I stop. Just for her to sleep, that's all. To deceive her, that's all.

 _...Liar..._

STOP CALLING ME A LIAR!

I glare down at the little girl's face, filled with anger and frustration. That innocent face... That innocent face must certainly hide a true evil behind...

The rest of the poem spins around in my head, leaving me to myself and my pathetic heart. And that heart... Beating too fast of this strange emotion... Mixed of anger and sorrow, I suppose?

When I finally calm down, I stand up and head to the room's only window, the barred one.

Facing the air that is cold again, I can't help but miss the warmth. But this is what I am. _Cold_. This is what I should face.

 _...I told you..._

 _...You shouldn't have given your warmth to_ her _..._

 _...Her heart is dark..._

 _...Dark... ...Dark... ...Darkdarkdarkdarkdarkdark..._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _I find her crying in the toilet, suffocating in a pile of her own vomit. The sound she makes... It's the kind that makes everyone want to die. Devastated staccatos of sobs._

 _"Jacey, Jacey, Jacey..." her lips twitch bitterly. "Come here."_

 _I don't want to see her cry._

 _I don't want to walk over her vomit._

 _I don't want to make her feel better._

 _I don't want. Her. Happy._

 _But I walk to her anyways._

 _"Mommy is a little sad," she exhales, her eyes unfocused._

 _"Did you take your happy pills, Mommy?"_

 _"Oh, Jacey," she looks at me sadly, almost sympathetically. "Why would I need those if I have you?"_

 _But I don't want you to have me._

 _She slowly rakes her fingers through her long, dyed blonde hair. Then, "Jeans off, sweetheart."_

 _With shaky hands, I slowly discard my clothing, leaving me with my underwear and a green polo t shirt._

 _She sloppily kisses my bare ankle, smothering me with her saliva and vomit. Then up, her lips go. Traveling all the way to my..._

 _My face turns red, and I have to clench my teeth to keep the tears from coming as she lowers my boxers. So many times... So many times, and yet again. Will she ever stop? Do I have to beg? Beg for my own innocence?_

 _She pulls away for a moment, turning around. Her red dress exposed her pale, bony back. I know what I have to do. I grab the strap of her dress with my sweaty hands, sliding it down her arms._

 _When does this stop?_

 _"Good boy," she whispers, suffocating me with her kiss. "Good Jacey. You're the only good man in this world."_

 _Rotting sensation enters my nerves as she thrusts her tongue down my throat. Tastes like vomit and alcohol. Always have. I will never kiss a girl._

 _She pathetically grinds her body against mine, and I am forced to the sink covered with a mixture of blood and her dinner. She knocks a soap and a mirror out of her way-just like she does every time._

 _God... God help me, I think as she pushes me down on the counter and pull herself onto me._

 _"Jacey," she stresses the word out, just a little desperately._

 _I know what that word means. It means I have to make her happy. It means I have to lift her red dress up and help her feel good._

 _So I do. The way I do every time. And when she makes noises, I can't tell if it's a moan or a sob. If it's from pleasure or devastation. She pants heavily and scratches with her nails down my back and asks for more and does it again sitting up and laughs bitterly and I finally push her off me to throw up in the sink._

 _Too much... Senses. Smells, tastes, touches, sounds, sights..._

 _I momentarily forget about her collapsed on the bathroom tile as I empty my stomach down the drain. Our bathroom sink is a dirty one, I think as she slaps me on my cheek. And so is the drain._

 _._

 _._

 _._

Dammit. I close my eyes shut for a while, unable to fight the pain with them open. Then slowly, I turn away from the window, looking at the tiny redhead sleeping on her bed. I walk past the bed, trying the doorknob open. It's before lights out, I realize. The door is still unlocked. So I open it and walk through the dim hallway.

* * *

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," the girl moans as I suck the skin just over her pulse. I can feel it beating faster and faster.

 _...Maybe it'll burst..._

 _...BURST..._

"What if someone..." she pants loudly. "What if someone comes in?"

She worriedly tosses a look at the bathroom door.

"They won't," my voice is cold, and the demon inside me knows what I'm thinking.

"Mmm, well, then."

She claws at my back as I pound into her, gradually picking up my pace and feeling uneasy. I hear a creak of the door, but I continue anyways. Because I know. I know that woody presence. A small yelp erupts from behind me, and only after I come do I stop and button my jeans.

"Sebastian?" A small voice asks me, and I stare at her tiny reflection on the mirror, and she stares at mine.

"You... You sneaky little bitch-" the other girl starts, but I cut her off with a condescending look.

The redhead's eyes are wide, and I only reach out for her shoulder to drive her out of the bathroom and back into her room.

"I... I was going to the bathroom..."

"I do realize that," I put on my shirt and shut the door close behind me.

"I... Uh... I..."

"What?" I snap, frustrated. "You what?!"

She backs away from me, whimpering.

"Oh come on, don't do that," my voice draws out sarcasm. "You've already seen me like this before. And I caught you staring."

"Sebastian, you're scaring me."

 _...Oh, Jacey, you're scaring your girl..._

"Don't pretend like you don't understand, sweetie," my voice wavers as I approach her. Headache, headache, headache, a demon inside my head... "You're not that innocent. After all, with a mommy like that..."

I take a hold on her shoulder, lowering my head down. Voices scream inside my head, and I feel drunk. Everything all blurry, unreachable.

"You know what this all means," I press my lips against her bare skin, sucking lightly, just to make her shiver.

"No!" The girl tries to push me away, but I trap her wrist in my grip and spin her around onto the bed. "Sebastian, please-"

"You've seen your mommy like this. You've seen me like this," I growl, pressing her down on the mattress. "It's a dirty thing, yes, sweetie..." But I know you want it. That's what everyone wants, anyways. Pleasure. Sex.

And of course, she groans when I press my erection between her legs. "See? You like that."

She shakes her head aggressively. "I don't want it, I don't want it, I don't want it-"

"That doesn't matter. I'm just trying to explain how this works out, okay?" Her face is red, and I figure mine would be too. Like an insane man. "Every fucking time you tease me like you're an innocent girl... I feel aroused. Do you know what that means, sweetie?"

"I don't... I don't want to-"

"It means, I want to do what I did to the girl you saw me with. Did you see what we were doing? We had a great time. But you must already know that. You looked pretty upset back there."

She flinches, shutting her eyes close.

"Oh, sweetie. It's not like you're turned on by me too... Right?"

"Please let me go, Sebby..."

"No. Not until you understand this. When I do this," I tilt her head back and leave light kisses down her throat. "It means I want to have sex with you. Do you know what that is?"

She doesn't answer, paralyzed as my tongue reaches her collarbone.

"I'll tell you. When I do that, I want your clothes off," I fumble with the hem of her shirt, but not quite taking it off. "And I want to be inside you."

I hurriedly check for a blade in my pocket. I never thought the moment would come so fast, but my mind is racing, and I can't stop. I need to end this now. _Tonight_. No more fun, no more fooling around. I'll kill her tonight. Doing whatever I want to do with her.

"Why... Sebastian..."

"Don't you think played me for long enough? I should teach you what kind of game you are playing."

I grind against her, pleasure shooting through my veins. _Tonight_.

 _...Liar..._

But just before I can do anything, she starts sobbing. This hiccupy sobs that spells betrayal and helplessness. And I drop my head above her shoulder on the small space of mattress, not to kiss her or anything, but just because I'm tired.

"Okay, okay..." I exhale shakily. "End of lesson, sweetie."

 _...Tonight?..._

 **First, I know I haven't updated for looooong, and I'm a horrible person for that. Thank you all who stuck around and I promise, I'd never abandon this story. I was a little busy, I guess. I still am, but I'll try to update a little more regularly.**

 **So anyways, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you all who read and reviewed, and hope you all have a nice day!**

 **-If you're interested, the poem is called A Lost Angel by Ellis Parker Butler.**


	9. Breathe

**Breathe**

I never expected her to cry. It's not like it was unusual, it's just... It has never crossed my mind. And it broke something inside me. I'm just unsure where, exactly. Doesn't matter, though. Today, it'll be all over. Enough of playing around.

So these are the days, the awkward days where we barely talk. I only pop in to say goodnight or good morning, and she only gives a nod and a shy smile as a response. Suffocating. Suffocating, when this should be something fun to me. Something exhilarating as I drive her to her own death. And I know it shouldn't be this way. I should be in control.

"I'm taking you to the beach."

Her clear, green eyes widen at my announcement.

"The one I told you about."

"The pretty one?"

I nod firmly.

 _...Such a pretty face should meet its end at a pretty place..._

There's a long silence before, "Should I get a swimming suit or whatever?"

Fuck it.

"No, no... We'll just... Let me just take you there, okay?"

She slowly nods her head, taking me by surprise as she grabs my hand with her small one. "But it's a little early for sunset. I mean... I want to see all that orange and red."

"We can always wait, sweetie,"

* * *

Although she doesn't say anything, I can tell she is stunned by the sight of the beach. Her playful green eyes are now set into a deeper shade, widened and fixed at the crashing rolls of waves.

Her feet stop moving and so do mine, leading to an infinite stretch of silence, and it should be awkward, studying her petite figure and that innocent expression and that overwhelming calmness on her face and that shock of emotions radiating off her and how the sunlight shines on her flushed face but...

But it isn't. It isn't awkward at all, it is simply just...

"I've seen waves in Mommy's paintings," she finally says after the long silence. "But I never thought it'd be that intensive."

"Just wait until the sun starts to go down," I tell her, bringing her to the rocky part of the beach where a tall but narrow cliff stretches into the waves.

On a small patch of sand beside the cliff, I sit down, motioning at her to do so too.

"So do we just wait? Until the sunset?"

 _...No... ...Kill her nowwwwwwwwwww_...

"Yes," I flinch at my own answer. "And then, we could climb up the cliff and watch it from the top."

"But it looks a little scary," she says, her gaze shooting up to the top of the cliff.

Oh fucking hell... I can imagine her whimpering from fear.

 _...So fucking gooooooooooodd... ...Should we do it now?..._

No. Wait.

"I don't think I want to go up."

"That's absurd," I shake my head. "Everybody wants to go up."

Still, perhaps I could just drown her in the ocean with my bare hands. Nobody is here, and nobody will come. I could force her head down as she struggles against my wet body... God, maybe I should have made her wear that swimsuit after all.

But no. Make her drive herself to her own death. Suicide, that's how I'll call it. After all, she went through such a hard time... It'd be for her own good.

"I don't. I think I'd go into the water."

"It might be cold."

"That's okay. You said cold is good sometimes, anyways."

April. A bit too cold, a bit too warm.

She takes her shoes off, tossing them aside thoughtlessly, and goes off to the water.

'Be careful' almost slips out of my mouth. Of course, it'd be a shame to not witness a perfect death but...

I ignore her giggles and yelps, pulling out a few of my blades and checking each of them. One by one, slowly.

"Hey, what are those?" The redhead shouts as a group of seagulls glide through the sky.

"Seagulls."

When she looks at my direction, she cocks her head in curiosity. "And those?"

I can tell she's indicating my blades.

"Nothing."

I put them away nonchalantly. She watches for a moment, then shrugs and turns around again. The wind is a little cold, but I take my shirt off anyways, resting it on the sand. Then I stand up and walk behind her, the icy water attacking each of my strides.

"Having fun?"

Her fiery hair, caught in the wind, fans at my face.

"Yup," she doesn't bother to turn around as my hands settle on the either side of her hips.

Wet, I feel. The t-shirt is wet.

I remember that night. Would she notice? Would she notice what I taught her so kindly if I move my hands just a little upward?

Before I can give the thought I try, she starts to giggle hysterically.

"Whoa," I steady her, tightening my grip on her. "What's wrong?"

"That looks like Will!" She points toward the void.

"Yeah," I murmur, trying to follow her gaze. "Sure, it does."

"Sebastian?" Playfulness remains in her voice. "Can we go deeper?"

My voice lost, I answer her by pushing her forward gently. I can imagine her lips stretching into a grin. We slowly walk like that, gently through the water, her back pressed against my chest.

Now the water reaches her abdomen, and my fingers itch to press her head down into the water. No, make her do it herself. But the temptation is so strong... I grip her hips tighter as we slowly descend.

"Too deep," she finally murmurs as the water reaches up to her neck. "Stop."

But I keep pushing forward, as if enchanted. "It's okay, sweetie."

And there, the waves lap at her chin, reaching up to her face as she gasps.

"Can't..."

 _...What are you doing?..._

"Alright, hold on to me," I say, turning her around.

Coughing softly, she wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist.

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

Did I simply want her to drown when I pushed forward, or is _this_ what I wanted?

Tension loses its grip on her as my hands sneak over to the back of her thigh to fully support her up, and another giggle escapes from her mouth.

"My shirt feels like a seaweed!"

Fuck, yes...

"I mean, you took yours off, but I..." her eyes rest at my bare torso, and I can feel it burning myself. And if she's going to suggest she takes it off too, I'll kill her now. Fast.

Or maybe... This can be a good excuse to fuck her. Slow and hard in the waves.

"But I shouldn't take mine off... Right?"

"Mmhm," my voice is barely audible, and I drop my head over her shoulder, trying to find some tolerance, just a few...

I can feel myself getting hard, against her... against that soft body of hers.

"I mean, Mommy always told me... It's not like I don't trust you, but..."

"I understand, sweetie. You really, really..." I inhale sharply, lifting my head back up. "We should probably go back."

So we do, and I carry her like that all the way to the shore. When I lay her down on the sand, she shivers from cold.

"Here," I hand her my own shirt. "Get changed into this."

 _...Aww, when did you get so sweet, Jacey?..._

Not sweet. Just preparing.

I arch my eyebrow at her questioning glance. "I won't look."

* * *

I should've brought something to eat.

But of course, I can never be those romantics.

"You hungry?" I toss her a swift glance, shivering slightly from the dampness of her hair.

"Not much."

"Cold?"

She shakes her head, hugging her knees to herself. Her jeans are still wet, and I know she must be cold. But I can't do anything like in those movies. I was never considerate enough to bring a blanket. Never considerate enough to give her a coat. And never will be.

"I'm sorry," I say. Intentionally, of course. Of course...

"For what?"

I don't answer as she looks at me with those evergreen eyes, as the sea breeze carries her woodsy scent to me, as her fiery hair ruffles in the air.

I dare my eyes to move swiftly down to her flushed lips and instantly regret myself. Why?

Here is the sunset now, burning it's brightest just before the fall. The water gently laps at the sand, sparkling orange in a peaceful way.

"Sebastian... You're acting really weird these days."

"Weird... weird how?"

She shakes her head, then buries her face in my shoulder. "But it's good. Really good."

Something leaps in my heart. Panic? Surely can't be.

"You feel nice to me, and no one has been... Well, I guess mommy's supposed to be, but you know how she gets weird sometimes."

My hands tremble because they are lost. Lost because they do not understand what they are supposed to do. Caress her hair gently? Seems too cheesy. But aren't I supposed to be affectionate? An affectionate _friend_ , that is?

"No one has been nice to me either," I finally blurt out, unable to think of anything else.

"Not even that lady in red?"

I shake my head silently. Celine... My salvation, my tragedy. Mommy. "I..." my sharp inhale is the only sound I can make furthermore.

"Are you crying, Sebastian?" The inquiry surprises me as she suddenly lifts her head to look at me.

"No," I quickly say. "Of course not."

Another long silence.

"To be honest," no, why am I being honest... "I don't even remember what it's like crying."

"You mean you don't cry?"

"Haven't for a long time."

"Me neither," _wrong_. I saw her cry not long ago. "Mommy hates it when I cry. But it's kinda funny because she cries really often."

"More than you do?"

She nods slowly. And to my surprise, her eyes sparkle with a brim of tears. Dammit, she does surprise me quite often.

"Aw, sweetie," I gather her up in my arms, because I think she might break apart. Which would be no fun, really.

I brush a tear away from her eyes, and I find it burning. Like rage.

And I finally decide for her and for me.

"Time to go up, sweetie."

* * *

"Sebastian, please-"

"It's okay," I soothe her, pushing her upward.

She screams as her feet flail hopelessly in the air, but I catch her before she falls, driving her onto the top of the cliff.

She pants loudly on the narrow space, whimpering.

 _...That's sexy... ...But also a bit annoying..._

"You okay?" I ask, squatting down beside her.

She shakes her head vigorously. "Nonononono, I want to get down!"

"You're afraid of height?"

"Everyone's afraid of height," she glares at me, trying to cling on to my arm.

"In that case," I can hear my pulse increasing. "We should learn to face the fear."

Then I rather violently pull her up to her feet, and drive her to the edge of the cliff.

"Sebastian!" She yelps, true horror lacing her voice. That horror... Something I have waited for months.

She screams again when she looks down into the void beneath her. The sun has now disappeared, and only the light it casts remain in the sight. The deep, dark green and blue water attacking the cliff angrily as if it's swallowing it whole.

"It's alright sweetie," but my trembling voice indicates that nothing is alright. At least, not for her. For me, I just have to enjoy this part. "Just think of your mommy crying, okay?"

My arms wrap around her arms and her body as a whole, trapping her completely with her clawing at my forearm.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this?" She gasps repetitively as if drowning. And drowning, she will.

"Shh, calm down. Calm down. I'm here, aren't I? Sebastian's here."

"No, no, no, no, please!"

"Fuck it! Think of your mommy, sweetie! Think of that boy in the arcade! The Love House! You don't belong there. No one likes you. I'm trying to do you a favor, fucking hell. Dammit, dammit, _dammit_..."

So I'm crazy too.

The girl gulps, clinging onto my arms, but she doesn't speak.

"Alright, alright... How about we jump together?" I bury my face in her hair to calm down. "Like I've always told you. _Together_."

Her body continues to shake, but at least she's stopped struggling.

"We can escape from everything. Let me take you to the clouds. We can be together there."

"Together... together how?" Her voice shakes.

"The way we were meant to be. Apart from everyone. You know you're not like others. You're like me."

"So we just jump?"

"Mmhm," I murmur softly against her hair. Would I really, though? Would I really jump for the sake of her death?

"What if we drown?"

"I'll pull you up to the clouds before you notice," my voice is much softer now, compelling her to let go. To let go of every strings she has on the Earth. This cold, lonely world that never loved her. The home that never loved her.

"Promise?"

I wrap my arms more tightly around her as a response.

"Say goodbye," I whisper, clenching my eyes shut for the end. For the expected end of hers and the unexpected end of mine.

"No," she suddenly tenses under my grasp. "No, I have to say goodbye to mommy, I have to... I have to tell her I love her..."

"Fuck it, what's the point in that? What's the point in that?!" I push her further, but she struggles for her life. For her beloved mommy. Mommy that I've never had. Mommy that always left me. Mommy that used me up. Mommy who turned me into a monster.

"No, no, no, no!" Then she gives one last pathetic flail before she plunges into the abyss.

It seems like the time stretches, to seconds to minutes to hours until it's impossible to keep track. As her horrified scream echoes around the cliff, sucking her into the gravity...

Until I catch her by her waist. I pull her back toward me, collapsing on the rocky texture of the cliff.

She scrambles for my embrace, although just a few seconds ago, I was pushing to kill her. But I give it to her. I bury her in my embrace, my eyes too tired to keep open. Until she flinches.

"What's wrong?"

"My ankle..."

I gently twist around to find the ripped jean and a long gash embedded on her ankle, oozing blood.

"Oh," she says, her voice nauseous.

"Sweetie," I exhale shakily, shifting to grab at her ankle. After ripping the jean to observe her wound more carefully, I impulsively bring the wound to my mouth, sucking slightly in a sick delight.

"Hurts... Sebastian..."

"I know, but it will be okay," I murmur, kissing it once softly, than trailing the kisses up her leg to her knee as she trembles lightly.

"I'll bring you back down."

* * *

"I want to go home, Sebastian," she croaks when we get back down on the beach.

"No, no, please," I don't understand why I'm so desperate for her presence suddenly. "Don't go."

"My ankle... It hurts."

"I can take care of it, sweetie, trust me. I'll... I'll get some help, please..."

 _...Pathetic boy... ...Weak..._

But I don't care anymore. Not for now, at least.

"Come with me," I desperately kiss her on her head through her damp hair, then on her forehead, to her cheek, to her jawline, to her neck and-

"Oh," she whispers. "But I really, want to go."

WHY? WHY DOES EVERYONE WANT TO GO?

 _...So full of hatred... ...So full of LOVE..._

"SHUT UP!" I scream, collecting her in my arms and running to the water as fast as I can. Cold icy wind cuts my skin but I don't mind, even when we plunge into the unrelenting water.

"Sebastian!" She gasps as the water envelopes her small frame.

I go as deep as my state allows, pushing her head down into the chaos, to the darkness that will greet her. But she struggles. How many more times do I have to tell her- this is all for her own good.

Her effort is fertile. I am much stronger than her, and my desperation too. Her limps flail helplessly as I force her down-deep, deep deep, deep...

Everywhere, it's water, and it feels like I am drowning with her. Within her. Suffocating. Why did I catch her back on the cliff? Why did I pleaded her not to leave?

Confusion.

Voices scream inside my head as there is only darkness and a drowning girl.

A terrified scream.

Why?! Why did I embrace her when she asked for? Why did I kiss her wound? Why am I lifting her up out of the water? Why am I desperate for her to breathe? Why am I treading back to the shore, why am I laying her down on the sand?

I don't check if she's alive. If she's breathing, if she _will_ breathe.

I just kiss down the skin on her neck, to her collarbone, to her shoulders, to her breasts, to her stomach. It feels as if her torso is exposed due to the wet shirt, but I am barely acknowledging it. I am too busy savoring the falling star; the sunset.

And when she coughs out water, I back away. Wiping the salty taste on my mouth, watching as she gasps for breath.

 **O...Kay. So Jace was pretty scary like this... it's just when he loses control. Also, I know I have kept you waiting for...ever, and I'm extremely sorry for that- forgive me?**

 **Thank you all so much for reading this and being patient with me. And thanks to all those who reviewed! Tell me what you thought of this chapter, and have a nice day!**


	10. Drip

**Drip**

"So that he can rest in peace."

"Amen."

Everyone closes their eyes and hang their heads down.

Black suits.

Tears.

I look around, confused, until I find a particular young redhead. But I ignore her.

Where am I? Why am I here? I walk around the chapel furiously, asking people. But they never answer. It's like they cannot see me. Feeling pathetic, I walk back to the redhead.

"Sweetie?" I ask carefully.

Finally, her eyes open, and I can see those eyes greener than ever. Almost supernaturally green. I sigh in relief. At least she is acknowledging me.

"Shh," her eyes are condescending and I find it surprisingly sexy.

She puts her index finger to her lips with an admonishing look, and closes her eyes to go back to praying.

"Sweetie, what-" I try again, but I am interrupted by the choir. They sing beautifully, but too loudly. Too loud.

 _...Too loud..._

I feel my souls being degraded into pieces by the beautiful melody, but everyone remains quiet and calm. How? How can they stand this song? The choir? The beautiful voice of them, too loud. Too much.

 _...Sweetie..._

I scream, collapsing onto the cold hard floor. HOWWWWWWWW

With my pained eyes, I squint at the redhead. She opens her eyes, looks at me pathetically, and points her finger at something behind me. I sloppily turn around, and let out a sharp cry. A massive casket is laid upon the altar, and I knowIknowIknowIfuckingknow... I lift myself up with my arms on the edge of the object as leverage, slowly and agonizingly bending my head over the casket.

I feel beads of sweat running down my forehead. Nauseous. The salty liquid slips into my eyes and my sight is limited to a blurry image of my tangled blonde locks.

Then slowly, as I blink away the drops, there lays a man in a black suit with blond hair swept back. Fuck. _Fuck_. No. I'm here. No. no...

I wake with a jerk.

.

.

.

So fucking stupid.

.

.

.

There isn't much to do for me. The girl got sick and is staying in her bed for days. I know it's probably because of her injury and the cold all at once from our last date. As for me, I have absolutely no fucking thing to do without her.

 _...Without her?..._

Pathetic to my best.

What is left, though? Aside from nightmares and waking up with a jolt, drinking has been my daily routine. And some occasional hunting too, of course. But they don't give me thrills like they used to. I've had my portion of cocaine. There's no going back to sweet candies anymore.

Satisfaction.

Quite relative, is it not?

I tried to visit her once. Thought about just killing her right away more than once. But obviously, she finds her old home cozy.

Maybe I should find my home cozy too...?

Ah, fuck it.

I throw on a dark creased shirt and a pair of jeans.

* * *

"You again?" The bartender narrows his eyes. "I swear, if you cause one more trouble-"

"A drink," I sit hastily and add, "please."

Please-that's how desperate I am. Desperate enough to beg a fucking bartender.

"Which one?"

"Shit," I murmur, rubbing my temple hard. "Something I haven't tried yet."

"I'm doubtful that even exists."

"I'm doubtful on your words," I shoot back, trying to chase migraine out of my head.

"Right," he gives me a sympathetic glance. "And stay away from my girlfriend."

Fuck. That was his girlfriend? Well, I didn't kill her, at least.

"For your information, it was her who couldn't keep her hands away."

He surprises me by staying silent. He knows.

"Life is shit, isn't it?"

"My girlfriend is shit."

"Then why don't you end it?" As if I'm such an expert at love.

"Well, fuck, 'cause you know, when you take a portion of cocaine, there's no going back to sweet candies anymore. You always need something... stronger."

I stare at his mouth, wondering whether he just really said that. Am I hallucinating now? Or just a simple coincidence?

 _...Since when did you start believing in coincidence?..._

"Stronger... Well, Mr. Bartender," I brush away the conversation swiftly. "Get me as drunk as possible."

And so I am wasted.

.

.

.

I hear an agonizing groan, and I soon realize the sound came from my mouth. Stumbling onto my bed, I hastily pull my shirt over my head. The ceiling seems to be too white. Maybe I should paint it.

I swear softly in an absentminded way, trying to remember the last time I got this drunk. I don't thrash around like a wild beast when I do. But that doesn't mean alcohol has no effect on me.

Staring at the ceiling, images of the girl flash up in the back of my skull. Red dress. Just the way I always imagine her as in. Then I'll tear it apart with my knife.

Oh, fuckfuckfuck...

It's almost unbearable, thinking about her like this. I haven't seen her for almost a week now. But I have to. I have to see that fiery hair of hers, that clear green eyes. And that woodsy scent of hers...

Shit.

I bury my head in the pillow, trying to clear my head from all the lust, but it's not working. She reeks of fucking innocence. The obsession nearly scares me. But this is my hunt. My prey.

I can feel the jeans uncomfortably tight around me, and so it is discarded.

There is no patience awaiting for me. I tug my boxers down agonizingly, gripping my erection desperately.

 _...Desperate... for what?..._

Not for the girl in a red dress... I surely cannot be. It's just a thing, between her and me. Obviously, I can be turned on by her, but that doesn't mean I am desperate for her.

But does she know? Does she know I'm touching myself to her? Does she even know what that means-I think not. Yet that's what makes it so hot.

I groan at the thought, pumping myself harder.

And she'd be a virgin.

Fuck.

"Clary..."

The moan has escaped from the darkest part of my mind.

 _...Clary?..._

 _...Huh..._

My hand drops out cold onto the mattress. And although I am still hard, I can't move. My eyes stare into the void as terror trembles into my body. I haven't called her by the name for months. I call names for business. Not for small talks. Not in a heated moment.

Voices... Voices dance around my head, torturing me.

 _...Oh, Jacey..._

 _...You're not cheating on me, are you?..._

 _...Moan MY name..._

 _...You like her better than me?..._

 _...Don't make mommy sad..._

"Shut up- SHUT UP!"

 _...Don't forget me..._

 _...Don't you forget me..._

 _...You are mine..._

 _...You belong no where else..._

 _...Come to mommy..._

"Fuck you, Celine..." thickness fills my throat. "Stop... Please..."

I don't cringe at my hoarse pleading. Instead, I fall weakly down from the bed, and reach for the pills underneath it. With trembling hands, I unscrew the cap and shove a few down my throat. Then more. Then more. Then more. And more. Until I fucking lose my count.

More pills.

 _...Did you take your happy pills, Mommy?..._

 _...Oh, Jacey, why would I need those if I have you?..._

 _...Well, fuck, 'cause you know, when you take a portion of cocaine, there's no going back to sweet candies anymore. You always need something... stronger..._

 _...Sebastian?..._

 _...Sweetie..._

My desperate claws hold onto the almost empty bottle, a wail escaping from my body.

 _...You moaned her fucking name..._

 _...It's about time she dies..._

Clary.

Clary?

Amongst the hazy air, I can see my body thrashing around the room. I can feel it. And oh! There is that scent of roses again!

Fucking pine. Fuck her woodsy scent. Roses are Romantic.

Sex is Romantic.

Drug is Romantic.

Death is Romantic.

Killing is...

Cutting!

Oh, wait- here comes the best part.

 _...Aw, sweetie, but blood is the golden key to the heaven..._

 _...You can get close to the clouds for a while..._

Yup, Romantic. I like Romantic. Edgar Allan Poe. That was my favorite date with her. Date? Wait, that's 'r'omantic.

Fucking hell. This isn't funny, Jacey! Stop laughing!

Clouds.

I want to get close.

Romantic.

Where's my favorite blade? Where's that damn blade-ah!

Crash.

Swift, that's how you break a mirror. Fuck, it got my skin.

Blade is always better.

But look at that glass shards dancing. Shredding... to pieces... down... down...

Oh, well.

Back to the blade.

Just a little cut.

Oh, that hurts.

Blood.

Red.

Dress.

Hair.

Fuck.

More blood.

Pain.

Ugh.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Dr...

.

 **O_o**

 **Oops.**

 **I haven't updated for so long.**

 ***Apology***

 **And the** **story is halfway through.**

 **So it's going to take another six months for this to be finished, forevernever030?!**

 ** _yesitprobablywould_**

 **But I promise. I would never abandon this story.**

 **Oh, and yeah, this chapter was kinda crap. But Jace was all crazy so I decided, hey, Imma go crazy too!**

 **Anyways, yeah, yeah, shame on me. But if you have something unclear, just ask me away, and I promise, I truly promise it would not take a month for an answer.**

 **So hey,**

 **thanks for putting up with me.**


	11. Bullets and Apologies

**Bullets and Apologies**

"How pretty."

Those are the first two words I hear when I wake up.

"You used to mean it before," I murmur out, my eyes still closed.

"What makes you think I don't now?"

A hand brushes through my hair-no, more like a pat, rather-and a sudden scent of perfume whiffs over my sensations. Hmm... Lavender? A change, I see.

"Who put me here? In the hospital?"

"I came over for a visit. You were passed out in the bathroom."

A lie. But I only swallow hard. When I open my eyes, I turn to my side, just so that I don't have to see her all over again.

"You're right," as always, she reads my mind so accurately. "A neighbor called in."

There is only silence.

A nurse interrupts, giving me a check up. Then she leaves.

I was never drugged in a hospital, though. They always went against that stuff for me.

"Don't worry. I lied about the pills," she's trying to strike up a conversation. As if she cares.

"Mm."

"Jace, Jacey, now don't do that. Don't turn your back on me," literally.

I try to find a witty comeback, but I instead find myself turning around to face her.

She looks the same. As always. Long, wavy locks of hair. Mascara placed on in a both elegant and slutty way. But wrinkles as her age shows. Cracks on her skin, expelling beauty and horror.

"Now, I don't get a thank you?"

"Thank you," my voice cracks. "Mommy."

"You're welcome, Jacey. But was it your work? You seemed to be visiting there quite often."

I stare at her, confused. She always manages to have me confused.

"The Love House," she says, as if stating an obvious. "Was it your work? The dirty business?"

"What do you mean?"

"Huh. So maybe not you."

"What are you talking about?" I sit up straight from the bed, tired of being helpless.

"The prostitution business. The place is getting no more money, and the parents don't care anymore. Add the two together, and you'll figure out the new way they earn money now."

For fuck's sake-

"You're a lucky boy, Jacey. You could have been in there if it weren't for me, you know."

But my brain does not access to what my ears bring. Wide and alert in horror, my existence freezes down to nothing.

Images flash through my mind.

Sweetie being held down and raped.

Screaming my name.

But I can't save her. I am not her savior.

I

am

her

murderer.

.

.

.

But I strip myself from the IV and run.

.

.

.

I do not have to climb over the fence. The gate is open. Even though it is midnight. Those bastards.

 _...But why do you care?..._

 _...Aren't you doing this for fun?..._

My hands don't tremble as I check all the guns. They never do. Because my heart is made of ice, and death is all I know.

I do not climb over to her room.

I merely break the window of the main building. The glass breaks into a million shreds, but no single sound of a security alarm. Like I said, those bastards.

The room is still dark and silent when I walk through the window. No trace of life. And so there will be no life after tonight.

My heart bursts into a laughter. I've always killed. But never this. It makes my heart pound. Excitement. Pleasure. Death. After so long since the redhead.

The redhead-the prey, the game, the _distraction_.

She was a distraction.

 _...So are you killing her tonight?..._

A groan escapes my mouth, and I lean forward on the wall to support myself. Too tired. I drive the barrel of the gun to the wall. A loud clunk. Then I do it again and again and again and again and

footsteps.

Footsteps approaching. A prey approaching. The steps are fast but cautious.

My hair sticks to my forehead with perspiration, almost blinding me as I wait for my prey.

What the-" the man-probably a doctor, as he is aged-mutters, then his eyes travel down to my gun. They cast horror in the room. He lets out a whimper and dash to the door.

 _...The Love House! You don't belong there. No one likes you..._

A bullet flies out from my gun and the doctor drops to the ground.

Revenge.

 _...For her?..._

The shot was loud and lights are soon turned on down the corridor.

And I start shooting.

.

.

.

I kill people.

I have done it before-plenty of times.

.

.

.

The gun run out of bullets.

I discard it and take out a new one.

I start shooting again.

.

.

.

There aren't many people in the main building.

So I move onto the bedrooms.

.

.

.

Young teenage girls and boys are on the floor, bleeding to death. Already dead.

People always hated her. Must have bullied her. I've seen her on the grass, alone.

They should all die.

.

.

.

Some of them run through the hallways.

Some of them lock their room and hope for the death to spare them.

.

.

.

The screams are too loud for my taste.

.

.

.

Where is she?

.

.

.

Girls' building. Room 304.

The door is locked. So I break it down and burst into her room. Her body is trembling, pressed against a corner of the room.

"Sweetie," I stride across the space, pulling her to me and cradling her in my arms. "It's alright. It's alright. I'm sorry."

Sorry.

The imprecision of the word.

And it's been so long. So long since I'd hold her like this. And she smells so good. Pine trees. The adrenaline pulsing through my veins clouds my head as I dip my head, pressing my lips against her artery.

In a shock, she doesn't pull back and I move my lips against the pulsing beat on her neck.

"Sebastian," her fingers go to my hair, such a sweet action. "What are you doing?"

Tears. I taste tears on her skin as I my mouth travels upward, tracing her jawline, her temple.

They taste good. Salty and sad.

"Sebastian?"

Her arms push me back.

I press harder against her body. Lower her down on the floor. Kiss down to her shoulder, her arm, her elbow, her wrist.

I can feel her blood pulsing through rapidly against the vulnerable part of skin. I suck at it lightly, biting not hard enough to draw blood.

She makes a whimpering sound. "Please stop."

My erection is fully pressed against her now, begging to be inside her. To feel the innocence. Grinding my hips into hers slowly and hastily, I moan against her neck. She lets out a startled cry.

"Sebastian, don't."

I grab her protesting wrists and pin them above her head against the floor with one hand. And with another, I slowly lift the fabric of her shirt until her stomach is completely bared to me.

My lips remember every single kisses I left on her breasts, her stomach, her legs back in the beach. They beg to feel them again. So I gently press my lips against the pale skin of her stomach as she twists around in my grip.

No, but I can't get lost. I can't get drunk in her presence again.

"Please, I'm sorry-"

A sound of a siren interrupts her words. Fuck.

I push back my urge, push back my desire and roll off her. After she smooths her shirt down, she doesn't hesitate in taking my reaching hand. After all that had happened, she doesn't flinch away from me.

I can't help but pull her close to me, locking my arms around her. I take deep breaths, deep breaths that would calm me down.

"Now, sweetie. Tell me where the room of that boy from the arcade is."

"Boys' building. 214."

"Alright, then. Hurry now."

We run toward his room, passing a few of the escaping survivors, ignoring the blaring sound of the sirens. We blend into them. The survivors. Because just like them, we are desperate.

Relief floods into me when I find his door locked. Now I know he's in there.

"I'll break the door open. Shoot with this gun, you can keep shooting until you're sure he's hit."

"Wha-what?" Her eyes are alarmed, innocence and horror drowning together.

"Don't you want him dead?"

"Sebastian-"

"There is no time, sweetie. Hurry!" I kick the door open, and find the boy underneath the bed.

He gives out a short cry, then buries his face into his palm, gasps of pants repetitively emitted from his mouth.

He seems to be panting her name. It drives me mad.

"Sweetie, shoot him!" I yell, turning my urgent eyes to hers.

She holds the gun aimed at the boy. Doubt, fear, sorrow, rage, pain flooding out from her body. The gun trembles in her grip, refusing to release its bullet.

The boy keeps on gasping her name under his bed. He seems to be saying sorry.

Again, the imprecision of word.

And with that, the gun slips away from her grip, crashing down upon the floor.

Exasperated, I grab just above her elbow, pulling her closer to the boy and handing her another gun from my pocket.

"Hurry, we don't have much time," I squeeze her arm harshly. "Shoot!"

Footsteps.

Countless footsteps.

Urgent footsteps.

But not the preys'.

The hunters' urgency.

The police.

"Shit," I grab the gun in one hand, and pull the redhead to my chest, locking her in my arms.

Then with the momentum, I charge through the window.

Before the collision of my body and the glass, I turn around to shoot the boy, but the bullets ricochet off the bed, protecting him from the price he needs to pay.

And the girl and I jump, joining the dance of the glass shreds and drop to the grass. We roll a good few feet, and then we start running into the darkness.

* * *

The sun is starting to rise, but it isn't bright enough.

Not enough to illuminate the abandoned street.

She shifts a little in my lap, yawning. The sound burns something deep down in my throat.

"Awake?" I ask, placing my hand cautiously on her locks of hair.

"Yup."

She would be the only one, to sleep with her head on my lap after seeing me like that. I was insane. Irrational. Still am.

Because I brush her hair away from her face and press a kiss on the corner of her lips. She stiffens up a little, but relaxes again. "Where are we?"

"At the street-the abandoned one," my words are a murmur, drifting around in her woodsy scent. "We were here before, remember?"

"Oh."

Then I kiss her. My head dipping down toward hers in my lap, brushing my lips against hers. Just as they touch, I freeze, the way she does. I can't help the way my body is so stiff, my lips too unrelenting. But her... She is soft. Kind. Warm.

And so my lips soften, and in that moment, all the voices in my head go silent. I cradle her head gently, rocking us softly back and forth until I pull backward so that my back is against the ground and she is on my chest.

She pulls away from the kiss, showing off her dimples as her lips curve into a smile. She then presses the smile against my mouth, once, twice, until I shift my head slightly upward, so I can capture her bottom lip between my teeth.

It makes her gasp softly, and I use the opportunity to slip my tongue inside her mouth. She tastes like something sweet. Something sweet in a sad way. And I intend to kiss all the sadness out of her so that I can fill her up with another sadness. My sadness. And my horror and my fear and my vulnerability and my desperation.

And that warm fuzzy feeling inside my chest right now.

My hands travel down from her stubborn mess of hair to her cheekbones to her jawline to her shoulder her waist her hips her legs. And they are restless.

Then I reach out to her hands resting on my shoulder and take them in my grip, shifting myself upwards that I'm sitting up and she is straddling me. Soft. And light. She is like an angel from above who's falling for the devil.

I let go of my grip on her hands and grab her waist instead, hoping to bring her closer to me until the very limit in which darkness and light can collide. And in that very brink of the two completely different shades, her hands gently caresses my hair and my face.

Tingly sensation of electricity courses through my skin and

I am lost.

In her touch.

I beg for her touch her kiss her lips her warmth her light.

A soft sigh escapes through the kiss, and I don't know if it's mine or hers, but it must be the latter, because nothing about me is soft.

But she feels so goodsogoodsogood. Too good. Because she is all about pleasure.

Innocence.

Good.

Nothing more.

Not the horror, the ugly side of the world.

Not the terror I see, the tragedy I anticipate when I open my eyes in the morning and urge my body to carry on through the dull air.

And it makes me feel good.

So even though I am running out of air, I do not pull away because I would rather die in light than to live in dark. But she apparently doesn't feel the same, and she parts away from me, and there is only harsh air to comfort my lips.

And that harsh air hits me hard.

Electricity fades out.

Voices return to my head.

Headache buzzes in my skull.

"I'll take you home," I hear myself say.

* * *

S.i.l.e.n.c.e. is the only thing alive between us. Our hands are near enough, but they don't touch. Because the voices are back, taunting me, torturing me, freezing back my melted heart until I am numb.

"Here we are," I say, arriving at her house. "Good night, sweetie."

Then I ruffle up her hair because that seems like the right thing to make everything wrong again. She flinches at the action, hurt radiating off her.

I am walking away when she asks me if I will come see her tomorrow morning. I tell her I might.

"Sebastian," she says a little more firmly this time.

"Yes?"

"What is your name?"

My feet stop moving, frozen in place. I turn around swiftly, facing her through the pale light of the morning. "What did you say?"

"It can't possibly be Sebastian," she says a little more firmly this time. "What's your name?"

I exhale shakily, a smirk on my mouth.

"Are you keep going to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Pretend like... Like nothing happened between us."

"What _was_ it that happened between us, exactly?" My voice doesn't waver.

Her lips tremble as her eyes grow wide and pained. "You know..." her voice is nothing more than a cracking whisper. "That... That..."

"That kiss, you mean?"

She tenses up, her hand covering her mouth before she manages to nod.

"Aw, sweetie. Sorry to break this to you, but I've kissed, like, thousands of girls before you. It wouldn't be fair if I treat you any different than others, now would it?"

 _...But she is already different..._

 _...She isn't dead yet..._

 _...Still breathingalivepulsingandcrying..._

She swallows hard, and I think I do the same.

"No," she whispers.

"Yes, sweetie. You need to accept that we are just friends, and I am just here because I pity you and-"

Her gasp echoes around the broken neighborhood, and I feel the pain in the air.

"No," she swallows again, moving toward me. "No, because I know-"

"You know _what_? Sweetie, what _do_ you know?" I take a step forward, challenging her to come closer, to touch me, to kiss me- "Because you spent half your life in that Love House where no one cares for you, and you were trapped underneath that alcoholic mother of yours."

"And you taught me, how, how..." she straightens up as she tries to figure out her next word. "How I make you want me."

The sentence is a blur to me.

 _...Every fucking time you tease me like you're an innocent girl... I feel aroused. Do you know what that means, sweetie?..._

 _...When I do this, it means I want to have sex with you..._

 _...I want your clothes off, and I want to be inside you..._

I growl at the memory, half-hoping to scare her off. But instead, she comes closer, her hands resting on the waistband of my jeans. Everything drowns in my head.

"You told me... And now I can see how much you really want me."

I don't doubt that. I am hard as fuck, despite myself.

"You're not seeing anything, sweetie," I grip her chin and jerk it upward so that she's staring into my eyes instead.

Then my hands grab hers, guiding it lower and lower and lower and lower until I've got them where I need the most. She inhales sharply, and so do I.

Biting back a moan that yearns to be released, I push her away harshly, putting on a bitter smirk.

"Now, was that enough for you?"

Her mouth falls open, desperation apparent in her eyes. But her comeback is icy cold, "Was it for _you_?"

Face flushed, I grab both her wrists and drive her toward a wall of a broken house, pinning her between me and the wall. "You think you know everything. But the truth is, you know nothing about me-"

"It's about time you admit that you love me," she demands, and I stand frozen for eternity.

"You're insane," my laughter wavers as I shake my head.

"It's true. I know it. Why else would you have rescued me from the Love House? Why when I was drowning? When I was on the cliff-"

"SHUT UP!" I scream, my fist slamming into the space on the wall, an inch away from her face.

She slams her eyes close, shaking her head. "No, not when you were the one to show me all this. I might have been not yours, but... But, you were, you were my first kiss."

Her eyelids flutter open a little, streams of tears rolling down from the crack.

"Sweetie," I inhale, lightheaded. The proximity is disturbing. "You think I give a fuck? I kill people. You saw me doing it more than once. I am a raging psychopath. I don't love. And guess what, sweetie. I'm going to kill you too."

The secret escapes so swiftly, her flinch stretches out into infinity.

"No, no you're not, because... Because you love me-"

"That was all a trick, can't you see? I only made you think that so you can destroy yourself to death. And you're close, aren't you? You aren't innocent, anymore. You're not so different from me. In fact," I press closer against her, my lips just above her ear. "You are just. Like. Me. You can't escape from me. Ever."

Her eyes show hurt without a mask. She gasps out in pain, clutching at her chest as my lips remain hovering an inch away from her skin. She murmurs out thousands of 'no's, every one of them different, but laced with betrayal.

"I can prove it, sweetie," I trail kisses downward until they reach the neckline of her shirt. She shivers a little, then I tug it down with my teeth, revealing her tender skin. But instead of kissing her further, I bring my lips back up to her collarbone, tracing it lightly.

Her hands push my face away, but I ignore them, slipping my hand against the back of her thighs, lifting her up and wrapping her legs around my waist. I can hear a distant moan from her mouth.

She is right there. Pressed against my hardness. So good. But not a part of my plan.

Ignoring the lust swimming around in my brain, I walk away from the wall, making her cling onto me. I'm turning more desperate, more urgent as I bite and suck on her skin, making her whimper and cry out. Tears spill into my mouth and I taste every drop of them. And then blood. They make perfect combination.

But no-no more time left for distraction. A sweet distraction, but a distraction nonetheless. My teeth still drawing blood from her neck, I break into her house with a loud crash. A light instantly turns on.

Her mother rushes into the living room and claps a hand over her mouth as she sees her daughter tangled up against me.

I throw the girl across the room, and she stumbles down to the carpet, becoming a limp mess. She doesn't bother to get up, not even when I toss a gun toward her.

"Now, sweetie," I jerk my chin toward the mother. "Let's see what you are capable of."

The mother whimpers, giving me the same image as her daughter's. I lick my lips and stare at her, marveling at the resemblance. But instead of innocence and purity, she is crusted with age and alcohol.

"Hold the fucking gun!" I yell at the girl.

She cries out my name. No, not my name-just Sebastian.

Exasperated, I stride over to her, kneeling down and grabbing her hair. I ignore her sharp inhale and press the gun into her palm with another hand.

"You know what you want to do."

Then I slam the barrel of the gun into her temple, and she lets out a shriek.

"Keep your mouth closed," I tug at her hair hastily. "Don't make a sound."

The neighbors probably wouldn't do anything, but I can't take a risk to be disturbed right now.

"No, please-" the mother's hand is reached out in a futile attempt to stop her daughter's death.

The gun is pressed tightly against her temple, sweaty with her perspiration.

"No...? Oh, wait. No," I draw the word out, twisting the gun deep into her skin then changing the direction. "That's what you really want, isn't it, sweetie?"

I slowly let go of my grip on her hand around the gun.

She doesn't lower the aim.

Perfect.

Right on her mother's shaking figure.

"Clary? Oh god, dear, baby girl..." tears are streaming down the mother's aged face.

Sorrysorrysorry-that's all she murmurs. Sorry for drinking for the Love House for the slaps and words and fear and hatred.

But the gun won't move. It is fixated at her.

"You want it through her head, sweetie? Or her heart? Or you can just fire multiple times-"

The_.._.._ _B_

gun_.._.._ _O_

suddenly_. _O_

fires_.._.._ _M_

The redhead is thrown backward with a yelp. But no, the mother does not collapse. Instead, I feel warmth pooling around my shoulder.

Blood.

The bullet only grazed my shoulder, but my hand instantly covers the wound. Only short gasps of pants exist in the room.

The girl scrambles into a sitting position, eyeing me carefully.

"Sweetie," I let out weary bursts of laughter, burying my head in my hands. Then a stifled wail follows through my lips. My lips that she was kissing just a few minutes ago.

I stay like that forever, blood soaking my shirt.

Then I stand up, and leave.

The girl doesn't follow me.

Not that I expected her to.

 **Hey *waves shyly***

 **Now that was a long chapter wasn't it?**

 **-I've lost things to say.**

 **thanks.**

 **bye.**

 **:)**


	12. Stars

**Stars**

 _~~~Stars, hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires._

 _Macbeth, Act 1 Scene 4_

I was the girl's first kiss.

Mine was Celine. She was drunk, high, and sad. I was sad.

I open my eyes and she is here. Is this a dream? In fact, it doesn't differ from my nightmares. Her nails scratching lightly at my bare torso.

 _Please stop_.

I groan involuntarily, feeling the weight of hell pressing down on me.

"Hello, Jacey."

Her velvety voice echoes my nightmares.

"What are you doing here?"

"I've got some news. Am I not welcomed here anymore?"

"You rarely visit."

"Yes, but this is an important matter."

I sit up on my bed, and that's when I see a figure against the door. A man. Stoic.

"I hoped we could meet in a more-" she looks around my room. "Appropriate place, however-"

"What is it, Celine?"

She flinches. I hardly call her Celine. But she doesn't get disturbed. She wouldn't.

"I'm getting married. From now on, Richard will be your father."

Father.

Alcohol.

Drug.

Pain.

Belt.

Whipping.

Dishes.

Crash.

And.

I.

Am.

Always.

In.

Pain.

"Richard?" My whisper hardly punctuates the inquiry. I look over her shoulder and study the man more precisely. Blond hair. Fit build. Tall. Me. Except for his eyes.

"Now, Jacey, this is not the time to be jealous-"

It's like a blow to the injury. A knife cutting open the skin just when it starts to heal. Endless pain to my stomach.

"Jealous? Why would I ever be jealous?"

Her face is ice. Not necessarily angry, but unreadable.

"Right. You've got that girl of yours, haven't you?" She shakes her head. "Didn't seem like your type, really. But whatever keeps you warm at night. Literally."

"It's a bit psychotic, don't you think? Keeping track of your grown up son?"

She seems taken aback by my rebellious tone.

"You think I'm psychotic?" She sputters out laughter. "You, of all people... look, I don't have any time for this. Richard." She brings him closer.

It doesn't take me long to get the essence of him. Cheater. Drug addict. _Liar_.

"Jace," he acknowledges me carefully.

"Richard," my voice is sharper, harsher. "I want to skin you bloody red and rip your bones into fucking shreds and feed them to the fucking rats, you fucking asshole."

"Jace, your new father-" Celine's voice remains stern despite the wavering look on her fiancé.

"He's not my fucking father. I'm fully grown now, and whoever you marry does not concern me-"

Her hand cracks against my cheek, and I feel the familiar burn.

"Bullshit, Jacey. Everything that comes out of your mouth is bullshit. You know I'm your mother. You can't escape from me. You are mine." With her last word, the heel of her stiletto rests upon my own foot, and a gasp erupts from my mouth.

The pressure is not yet fully applied on my skin, but I know she wouldn't hesitate to do so.

"You don't need any proof for that, right, Jacey?"

"I'll be off on my own then," Richard tries to excuse himself, sensing only half of Celine's mood.

"Darling," her nails, painted red, grab at the man's sleeve. "Please don't. You don't want to miss the best part, I'm sure."

My feet trembles unwillingly, and Celine pressed her heel harder. White is all I can see.

She hums a soft melody and I immediately recognize the 1981 song.

 _Sticks and stones may break your bones..._

 _But names can never down you..._

My eyes avoid hers, but in a quick second her hand grabs my chin and forces my gaze to meet hers.

"My beautiful boy. I always liked you submissive. But you've grown up so much," she crouches down to my eye level. "Let's see if it's to my liking, shall we?"

Her hand treads tenderly over the button on my jeans.

"Strip," she orders quietly, but harshly.

Automatically, I zip it down and my boxers go along with. It's like I'm a robot. A robot being punished. A robot who knows its punishment.

"I could be submissive," her lips wrap around me, and I shudder at the sudden heat. Then she pulls away, licking her lips. "Just like that petit red haired girl of yours. After all," her fingers lightly graze my shoulder down to my arm. "You're so strong. Tall. Easily overpowers me, but. You wouldn't do that, would you Jacey?"

"Mommy-" I pant, slightly hard unwillingly from her earlier ministration, but mostly repelled from her, and the haunting memories.

"Touch yourself," her heel lifts from my foot, and I feel the bittersweet exposure of the bruised skin to the air. "You're only freed after you come."

Richard shifts uncomfortably, but is hold still by Celine.

I taste bile at the back of my throat, threatening tears. It's such a familiar sensation, assuring that tears would never escape because they never did. Only the burn.

Celine notices my hesitation and slaps my cheek again. And again. And again and again and again until I come to my senses and place my hand on my length.

Pleasant with her accomplishment, she leans back against her new man's shoulder, kissing him passionately. They start to strip each other, occasionally taking a few glimpses at me.

I'm lost. Like the little boy she's found so many years ago.

And I know she lied. Even after I come, I know I'm still not free. Never.

* * *

Shame.

How weird, it never found me in the countless times I have killed. But now, it hits me.

But rage.

Is much stronger, filling every dark holes within me.

Celine has left, but her presence still lingers, on my most vulnerable self.

.

.

.

Death.

How easy.

The cold metal pressed against my palm.

Should I take pills? Jump? Cut?

But there's nothing disgusting about this. This isn't a horror show.

I stop thinking.

I sense.

I feel the cold, hard gun on my temple.

I smell the metallic air around me.

I hear a voice of a girl.

"Sebastian? Sebastian! Can you let me in?"

Knocks on the door. Rapid but cautious.

Angered, I shoot the window and the glass erupts into pieces.

The girl turns silent for a moment, then starts screaming my name hysterically.

"Go away!" I yell.

"Sebastian, I'm sorry!" Notes of sobs escape between her words. "Please let me in! What are you doing? Let me in!"

The door shudders with each of the banging.

I press the gun harder into my temple, my finger resting on the trigger.

Outside, she starts to scream bloody murder.

But why would anyone care? Why would anyone tend to a screaming little girl? Why care? Why _love_?

"I love you."

A gasp exits my mouth as the words she groaned out enters my system.

"DON'T!" I scream. " _DON'T_!"

Why love? Why love? Why love? Why love? Why love? Why love?

Why me?

One. More. Girl.

One more girl to kill before I fall to hell.

I bang the door open and find her crouching on the floor, her eyes wide. In a quick moment, I pin her down to the cold tiled floor, our faces an inch apart.

My gun touches her forehead, and her eyes flutter close.

"What do you fucking know about love?" I demand, and she whimpers in fear. "I know love, I know love! I know it will burn you out and swallow you inside out, and you- you fucking stupid girl, you think you love me?"

She opens her mouth, but is too horrified to say something. My finger rests on the trigger, slippery and warm.

"Well guess what sweetie, only after it kills you, you realize-it's only a reverie. It doesn't exist."

"But I, _love_ , you..." she drags out the words painfully, tears slipping soundlessly from her green eyes.

"That's what he said when he beat me! That's what they said when they all left me! That's what she said when she captured me, raped me, cut me, KILLED ME!" I gasp for breath. "You want to see all my scars? The cuts, the burns? The people I've killed, the people who mourned for? World is evil, and so am I. So you think love can fail that many times?"

"Please, Sebastian... please," she caresses the small skin of my cheek, tenderly, and I can feel her whole body trembling from fear. Her eyes snap open, allowing me to see her soul breaking into a thousand pieces.

" _Please_ never saved me from all the beatings, the burnings. It never saved me from people leaving me behind, families that never felt for me. _Please_ never saved me when she... when she _raped_ me and tortured me and..." my words quiver from anger to pain, the words I'd never imagined I would say.

And I don't believe the way tears are welling up in my eyes, furiously streaming down my cheeks. Some of the fear from eyes change into something else.

"Fuck it," I whisper. "Fuck it."

I get off her and walk into my pathetic place again, slamming the door behind. Then I lean back against it, hearing the girl's cries, feeling tired. Tired of living. But when she stops making sounds, I become more frustrated.

 _...begging for a girl's sympathy?..._

No, no, not sympathy.

 _...then love?..._

...

I swing the door open again, finding the girl with wide eyes, containing both fear and relief. Then I kiss her, hard. Cradling her entire body against me, my lips unrelenting and defined. Her soft body fills me up, empty with sadness.

"Sebastian," she pulls away, her eyes closed. "Sebastian, tell me about your life. Your real life."

.

.

.

I stop thinking.

I sense.

Her woodsy scent.

Her green, grassy eyes.

Her small, warm body.

Her soft, melodic voice.

My salty tears on the tip of my tongue.

.

.

.

Every stories crack out of me like a broken bottle of poison.

No one has made me cry more than her.

.

.

.

Her body is tightly pressed against me as I collapse backwards on my bed with her on top. Her face is just an inch away, and I kiss her fairy nose lightly and cringe from the foreign feeling of tenderness.

As she kisses all my tears away, three facts melt into me; one, I am definitely not good at softness, two, she is only a virgin and I'll hate myself tomorrow morning, and three, when did I start worrying about those stuff when I absolutely. Want. Her. Now.

Yesterday, I was a merciless killer, and today...

Today... what am I?

A gentle lover? Is that what I am?

Flipping us over so that her small body is underneath mine, I glide my lips down from her own, to her neck, her breasts, her stomach, and right there, breathing hot and shaky all over her, all the while slowly undressing her.

When I first enter her, her body stiffens up with fear, and that's the first time- first time I've ever felt something. To care enough to go slowly. And as I finally start pounding into her, soft but overwhelming pleasure fills me up. And looking at her face, tightening and relaxing with my each thrusts, her flushed lips making those soft, erotic moans, I have to urge myself not to go faster.

All the dirty things I have said to her in my fantasies disappears. We are silent, but desperate, slow, but urgent. And I wonder if this is making love. And I wonder if it is even possible for me to do so.

But her soft gasps, and this infinite moments of wants, desire, passion, heat, sweats, my whole body covering up hers, feeling protective, jealous, pleasured, and desperate, it definitely feels good. And maybe it is because of the hazy euphoria bursting inside me, but something has changed inside me.

And with the last, longingly deep thrust, we are both satisfied, and I collapse on her. I try to keep my weight off her, but tired, I press my lips against her ear.

"It's Jace."

 **Sheesh.**

 **Thanks for reading &reviewing.**


	13. Storm

**Storm**

"Jace," she whispers, calling me by my actual name from the bed. "Where are you going?"

I flinch, looking down instinctively at my bloody palms. I realize I've been sharpening my knives in a startle.

Masking my face with innocence, I look up to her. "Just to get some air. I'll be back soon."

"Jace. Don't," she says sternly, sitting up on the bed. How does she know my name, anyways?

"Don't what?"

"Go outside. It's midnight. Stay with me," she unconsciously drags her fingers down her arm, having me suddenly feel lightheaded.

"I'll be back soon, sweetie."

"No," she insists persistently. "Don't leave me here alone. I might get killed by a monster."

"I assure you, that won't happen while I'm gone," because I'm the monster.

She shakes her head. "No, you're not, Jacey," I feel nauseous at the mention of the nickname.

"What?"

"You're not the monster."

Her gone now drops to ice cold, her eyes not anymore the same green. Instead of warm green, now it's burning. Fire.

Then, I find her wearing that red dress, the one in my fantasies. She's seductively kissing me, touching me, composed unlike me. She finds her way onto my lap, slowly grinding against me, and I thrust my hips upward absentmindedly for some sort of relief. Fire builds up inside me despite the hazy confusion, and suddenly, there is a burn on my chest.

Startled, I jump back, feeling thick hotness.

A knife.

I've been stabbed.

By her.

"No need to go or come, sweetheart," she whispers as I lay dying in her arms. "This is your finale."

.

.

.

I open my eyes, feeling sweaty and hot.

What was that dream?

What do I do now? Cut myself? Take the pills? Kill?

But then I turn around and find her, her small hand on my stomach in some effort to cuddle. A warm, fuzzy sensation finds me, and I find myself bringing her into an embrace. And I remember; I told her my name, I told her I am the monster, and I haven't killed her, and she hasn't left me.

And that's the moment when the whole nightmare fades into nothing, and I find myself basking in a guilty relief. Guilty, because I used her in my most vulnerable moment. Relieved, because she's smiling up at me with those grass green eyes. And I'd never felt guilt before, and no one had smiled at me like that before.

So maybe we did make love last night.

I kiss her once, twice, and she kisses me back.

"Hello," she whispers shyly.

I don't know what to say, so I say nothing.

A few moments of silence later, I find myself on top of her, kissing and touching, everywhere. My hands caress the sides of her bare thighs, finding its way around and resting on her most sensitive spot.

She gasps at the contact, bucking her hips thoughtlessly. I feel her shudder as my hot breath fans over her neck, and I take her bottom lip between my teeth as my fingers find their rhythm against her wetness.

I stare into her deep green eyes, letting go of her bottom lip. I feel desire, passion digging it's way up inside me. I retrieve my hands and she moans my name; Jace. I compensate by kissing her lips fiercely, pinning her flat against the bed.

This time, it's more passion than sweetness. I thrust my hips upward, creating delicious friction, and her name escapes my mouth in a wishful pleading. Gripping her wrists over her head with one hand, I tear her shirt she has put on during the night, then I pound into her. This time, more frantically, and fast.

"On fuck, Clary," I say, breaking the silence. The room is soon filled with desperate pants and moans. "Shit, _shit_."

I thrust into her faster, harder, until we're both coming. After a few moments of euphoria, I look down carefully at her, then kiss her flushed cheek. She smiles shyly, and I fall back to her side.

"You should stay with me," I whisper, brushing away a lose strand of her hair caught between her lips. "Forever, and we could do this," I grin a little. "Again."

"But Jace," my heart thumps like enraged ocean rides at the word. "What about my mommy? She must be worried."

"I'll make you happier," I kiss her forehead. "Than she ever did."

"What if she's looking for me?"

"She wouldn't be. She doesn't care as much as I do," I slowly raise my eyebrows. "So?"

"I can't, Jace, I can't," she whispers. "I love her."

"You hate her. I can see it in your eyes. You want to kill her. Because she made you lonely."

"I'm sorry," her eyes seem a paler green now, and I can see that she really is sorry.

But that doesn't matter. She doesn't want to stay with me.

"Fine," I finally say, getting out of the bed. There must've been something in my voice.

"Jace? Are you mad?"

"No," because I'm trying to be a gentleman now.

But then, something catches my eyes. Something red. I march over to it, and pick it up. Celine's underwear. She did it on purpose she did it on purpose. Blood rises up to my head, and I feel it ready to explode.

"Fuck!" I scream, flinging it away from my hand. Then my hands fly to everywhere, breaking everything, screaming every words.

"Jace! Jace!" Clary yelps, trying to get to me.

Fury

And fear

are such strong emotions.

Celine will always follow me, always be there.

To torture me, to make me live in a faithful misery.

.

But love,

Love is...

And as Clary grabs at my cheeks,

Her eyes searching mine,

Her woodsy scent swallowing me,

I melt down in her warmth, and drop to my knees before her.

I wrap my arms around her tiny waist, my lips buried into her bare stomach, kissing every trace and scar.

"Please..." I beg. "Please stay with me."

She kneels down too, her hands on my face, caressing and soft. "Jace, you need to be in peace."

"Stay," My voice is barely anything.

"Okay."

* * *

Wrapped in my arms, her breaths steady into rhythmic breeze. I slowly slip out of the bed, careful not to wake her.

A tiny voice inside me-no, more like a wail-tells me I should feel bad for pressuring her into staying. For pressuring her into spending all her life, all her love with me. But no, the darkness inside me, the darkness I _am_ feels safe. Secure. Seeing her in my bed, in my cage. No where else to go. Only fucked by me-ever.

And I can't help it. Because that's what I am.

Another raging waves threaten to hit my brain, and before it can, I make myself listen to her. I do need peace. I find the collection of my recklessly placed knives and guns, and I pack them away, deciding I will throw them away soon.

.

But like the monster I am, I leave out one. Just one-but a killing thing indeed.

 _A.m.o.n.t.h.l.a.t.e.r._

"Wee, the sunset!" She exclaims, waving around her arms thoughtlessly.

We're back at the abandoned street. The place is scattered with wildflowers, just like it always is this time of the year.

I grab her hands and kiss her lightly on the lips. I try not to think much while I'm with her. I try to keep all the voices, the angry voices, deep down. Kissing her, touching her, fucking her-all good distractions, and also a sweet torture at once.

Giggling, she teasingly pull my hand, and I crash my lips against hers, touching her all over. And I'm finally at the moment, her touches drowning me so the voices in my head turns into a distant murmurs. Underwater.

I pull away to catch my breath, looking down into her evergreen eyes. And there's something in that eyes-something I've been afraid of for so long. And it makes me deaf with fear and anxiety as only silence fills the moment. As I try to pull away, to escape from that moment-from the inevitable, three small words escape from her mouth.

Frozen, I stand there, and there must be something on my eyes, something like disgust, or horror, because her face is immediately laced with hurt.

"But I do love you," she whispers, attempting once more.

Then, as if she's giving up, she brings her own lips to mine, trying to kiss away the moment before. To make me forget and save herself from the disaster.

Her hands slip down from my chest-lower, and lower, and it half-distracts me, my eyes closing. But my heart doesn't beat from passion anymore, and my head doesn't turn blurry from pleasure no longer. The voices are back.

 _...Love?..._

 _...Only to abandon you..._

 _...To hit you and use you humiliate youleaveyou..._

 _...But you're welcome to be fooled again..._

 _...Petty little kisses..._

 _...How sweet..._

And this time, they are the ones drowning me from the reality.

Inhaling sharply, I suddenly push her away, harder than I'd intended to. She falls back on the hard ground, surprised and hurt.

"Jace?" She says the name carefully, as if I'm a vicious dog, unpredictable.

My eyes are still on her, unmoving. Then a distant thunder echoes in my ears, and the sky turns dark, slowly moving me forward. I help her up, almost unconsciously, as if the thunder itself is moving me.

"Are you okay?" She inquires softly.

"Yes," I swallow hard, looking up at the dark clouds covering the setting sun. "I'm fine."

But I can never be fine. There is always the darkness chasing me, threatening to swallow me up.

And I know.

It is coming.

Just like it always would.

And then the sky starts to cry.

As if for our inescapable fate.

 **Uh oh.**

 **So you guys, really-I know this isn't the sweet resolution where Jace turns all loving and all fine like you wanted, but please don't hate him so much-after all, he is who he was. You can't just expect him to be like normal, romantic guys.**

 **Anyways, other than that, I know I am posting updates slower than ever. But seriously, I will never abandon this story. After all, it is indeed almost to its end.**

 **So yeah, I really appreciate you keeping up with me, and thanks for all the helps and the reviews!**


	14. End of the World

**End of the World**

Days pass with blurred tension. Just like it was with the families. I guess I was wrong. She isn't really that different from others. And I know that if this continues, she'll leave me just the same as them.

These days, anxiety runs my heart, and madness controls my brain.

So I bring her flowers every morning-a futile effort to be romantic-with a silent pleading; please don't leave me, please don't go away, please be with me every hourminutesecond.

And I know this is pathetic. Better to leave than to be left. Better to hurt than to be hurt.

But somehow, that's not how it works with her. I can't dare to leave her.

That's why again, I'm buying these daisies for her. Daisies-innocence.

The flowers carelessly held in my hand, I walk back to my flat, only to find it empty. There isn't a sleeping girl on my bed. Out of my protection, out of my cage.

Gone. On her own. Left. Me. Behind. On my own.

Fear creeps up in my entire body, threatening to tear me open. Barely holding myself up, I run outside to find her.

Is she gone? For good? Leaving me all alone? In this coldhearted world? I was alone before, but I can't go back to that place. Having no reason to wake up in the morning, everyday just the leap days. I'll die if I can't find her. I'll die.

 _...and hope she follows you..._

And I hate her. Hate her for making this worse for me. For turning me back into that little boy on the street, shivering and aching for warmth.

And the world is unimaginable if I'm left on my own-again. And this will be the last straw.

Fire burns through my throat as I walk past the people, my body urging for a kill. Anger. And devastation. This. Is the end of the world. And the world breaks into shreds and explodes all over when I see her red hair-with someone else. And then I see that hair being tucked behind her ear by him. She flinches away for a moment, tense. And then everything... turns... red...

.

.

.

And I kill him with my bare fists.

.

.

.

And I drag her back into my flat. She doesn't even protest.

.

.

.

"Tell me you love me now. Just like you did back there. Now, you fucking whore!"

"Jace," she cries out, tied down to my bed. "Jace, I was just out to look for you-"

"Say it! SAY IT!"

"I love you," she sobs. "Jace, I love you."

"Good. You won't ever leave me again."

"I wasn't-"

I grab her bound wrists before she can finish the sentence, climbing onto her. "Now kiss me."

As she does, I rip her clothes open, marking every inch of her body-mine.

"Mine."

Fear and desire take over. Possessiveness control my moves, urging me to go faster, harder. More pain, more pleasure.

Her sobs are soon mixed with whimpers of guilty pleasure, and my thrusts become rougher, deeper. Only I can ever make her feel this way.

Her struggles only amplifies the lust, to possess her, to claim her.

My teeth sink into the soft skin on her neck, drawing blood. Red. I groan deeply. Tasting every drop of it.

"Tell me what you are, sweetie," I growl into her ear.

"Please, Jace," she sobs. "Please stop. It hurts."

"Then why are you so fucking wet for me?" I hiss, licking the tears of her cheeks. "Tell me now, sweetie. Who do you belong to?"

"Yours," she finally spits it out, after pants of sobs. "Yours, Jace."

And now I remember. Daisies-beware the suitor.

And the beast has fooled the beauty all over again.

.

.

.

Love. Love. Is this love? Even if it hurts me? Even if it makes me hurt her? Even if I enjoy her pain her tears her screams?

I untie the tight ropes on her wrists and roll of the bed.

Black, blue. Bruises. Bruises on her body.

A part of me wants to kiss them away. Another part urges me to run; to run from this mess. To run from this life.

.

.

.

For days, she wouldn't talk to me. Wouldn't listen to me, acknowledge me. Like a dead body. And maybe she is. Dead. Maybe I killed her too, just like what I am; a monster.

.

.

.

"You're broken," I state, holding the bottle of whisky in a trembling hand.

Her distant, green eyes meet mine, and I find nothing. Nothing.

"You're so fucking broken. You don't talk. You don't... you don't do nothing."

Her gaze drops back to the bedsheets, and I stomp over to her to grab her by her chin and urge her eyes to meet mine.

"It's what I did. It's what I did to you. I know, I fucking know. But don't blame me," I laugh. "Don't blame me for being born this way, for growing up this way-"

"Bastard," the word leaves her lips in a whisper.

"What did you say? What did you-what did you fucking say?"

"Bastard!" She screams at the top of her lungs. Her small hands close around my throat. I can easily push them away, but I don't. "Bastard!" She yells again. "You think you're the only one. You think you're the only miserable filthy shit. You want to die? You fucking die. You fucking die with me!"

Finally pushing her away, I splash the drink in my bottle all over her. She doesn't react, not at all.

"Alright," I speak, taking a deep breath. "I'll find a lighter and I'll fucking burn you right. I'll burn this whole fucking place down."

I launch myself on her, knocking her down and pinning her to the floor. She thrashes and kicks, and we fight like we're dying. And we are. Dying.

Then I gather her tightly in my arms, kissing her fiercely than ever. Lavishing her lips and her whole body soaking in alcohol. I gasp and roll off her to catch my breath as she knees me in the stomach.

Her whole body drenched in whisky, she hoists herself up and stands over me.

"You... you get turned on by that," it isn't a question. "Sick bastard."

Moments pass and her eyes remain on me. Then they land on the door.

Realization swallows me as I lay on the floor, looking up at her green eyes smeared with rage. She is going to leave me. She is fucking leaving me. Pang of fear.

I grasp her ankle with a trembling hand. "Please," I beg, too tired to get up. "Don't... don't leave."

Tears. Fucking tears of panic, of desperation run down my temple.

"I..." I almost pass out from the grief. "I am in love. With you."

She sucks in a breath, biting her lower lip.

"I am in love with you," I repeat desperately. "I am in love with you. Please. Please. Say it back."

"Just like you forced me the other night?" She whispers.

I gasp for breath in pain.

"Say you're sorry," she sobs. "Say you're sorry, and mean it."

"I love you, Clary. I love you."

"Tell me you are fucking sorry," she whispers.

"I am sorry," I rasp out, the word foreign on my tongue. Sorry. Never heard the word, never said the word.

"Say you're sorry for raping me abusing me tying me up-"

"Please, Clary. Sweetie-"

"Don't," she cries out in agony, as if she's the one trying to make me stay. "Don't. Call me that."

"Clary," I groan out. "Please stop. Please. I love you."

"You can have your own anger outbursts and I can't?"

"Please. I love you. I love you. Please..."

"Yours," she repeats the word from the other night with venom. "Yours, Jace. Can't help it."

Then she falls onto the floor next to me in a sobbing mess, shrinking once again into the girl I first met.

"Let me love you, Clary," I whisper, pulling her into my embrace. Darkness to the darkness. "Let me make it up to you.

She melts into my touch, letting my lips roam all over her.

"I'll make you feel better."

Slowly getting rid of her clothes, I kiss the bruises and marks on her skin, longingly, painfully.

"Make me feel better," she pleads.

"I'll make you feel better."

Our touches are agonizing and arduous, scorching to each other; poisonous. I suck the skin over her pulse, making her soft moans come out. Her hands wrap around my hard cock, making me inhale sharply.

"Fuck, fuck, Clary," I gasp. "Stop."

But her grip only tightens around me, and I release a long moan. I take her hands away from me, then kiss her finger tips before sliding my lips down on her. I undo the button and the zipper on her jeans and slide them down with her underwear.

She flinches at the exposure, and I slowly kiss her downward and downward until she lets out a moan. My lips on her clit, I thrust my finger into her, adding another as she bucks her hips closer. I shudder at how tight she is, growing hard every second. When I finally can't take it anymore, I reach up to her lips, plant a kiss, then slide my jeans and my boxers down.

"Do I make you feel better?" I whisper with my erection throbbing against her naked skin.

She nods, whimpering.

Then I thrust into her, and again, and again. Slow and deep.

"Please. Faster," she moans after a moment.

"Aren't you sore?"

She swallows hard, fluttering her eyes close.

I keep my pace, until my patience wears thin. Her pants grow louder as my pace increases, and a voice enters my head after each thrust.

She almost left me.

She almost left me here.

In my miserable life. Alone.

Better to hurt than to be hurt.

I had already expected this when I offered to make her feel better. In my head, pleasure is associated with pain. With fear.

Better to hurt than to be hurt.

Better to hurt than to be hurt.

"Clary, Clary," I pant, kissing each of her closed eyelids. "I love you."

She holds tight at my shoulders as she orgasms, and I soon follow her. Instead of rolling off her, I kiss the tears away from her face, her soft skin. Then I reach underneath the bed. Where the one last knife of my possession lies, waiting for its opportunity.

"I love you," I groan out. "I love you."

Then my arm makes a slashing movement on its own accord.

Red.

Red hot thickness covers her naked body as her green eyes go lost in panic.

"I love you," I whisper, attempting to soothe her futile breaths. "I love you, Clary."

What have I done what have I done.

"I did you a favor. You wanted her dead, didn't you?" My hand of betrayal speaks with the knife still in its grip.

"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" I sob, burying my face on the center of the pooling blood. I try to lick away the blood, to suck them all in, pretend it never happened, but the blood only increases. So much blood... Too much...

"You wanted to kill her. You did this. Not me," my hand speaks again and the blade glints in agreement.

"No, no, no, no," I gasp for breath, both of us covered in red. "I love you, I love you."

"Then why did you kill me? Then why did you kill me?" A voice.

"Who said that? Who said that?!" I scream.

My love-my angel, she gurgles on her own blood, choking, dying.

911\. 911. No time to hallucinate. No time to...

I punch the numbers in and tell the truth.

"I stabbed the girl I love."

.

.

.

Can I bring you back? Can I bring you back? My tears splash onto her face, around the green eyes, losing life.

Sirens.

I hear sirens. They're near.

Wait.

DON'T LET THEM TOUCH HER DON'T LET THEM NEAR HER

Wailing, I drag her limp, naked body across the floor, out of the building, out to the street.

"Don't leave me, Clary. Don't leave me," I grit through my teeth.

I try to run. Run away from the ambulance. From the darkness, from the light. Mine. Mine!

"You killed me!" A voice screams.

"Clary, please, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to, I'll make you feel better-"

"You killed me!"

I don't stop dragging her across the road, leaving trails of blood.

"Why did you kill me?"

"I didn't. Clary, I didn't. I swear. I love you-"

SCREEEEEEECH-

A light-a headlight?-swallows both of us up as I clutch her in my embrace, waiting for the end of the world. I do not dare to let her go as I am sent into the air-flying?-and all I see is howling darkness. And blinding light.

 **Cliffhanger! Never used that for a long time *evil laugh***

 **Oh shit. What did you say? I'm in deep shit?**

 **oh.**

 **sorry.**


	15. Rain

**Rain**

"Are you real?" I ask the nurse.

"Yes," she answers. "Why? Do you... see things?"

Her blue eyes seem to penetrate me, bothering me deeply.

Can you tell me if she's real? Tell me if you can see her green, innocent eyes. If you, too, can smell her woodsy presence. Like pines. If her ghost haunts you with love and pain. Or if she's alive.

"No," I inhale sharply. "Of course not."

.

.

.

 _T.h.i.r.t.y.m.i.n.u.t.e.s.a.g.o._

Clary, Clary, Clary. I can distinctively remember the feel of her name on the top of my tongue. It's such an innocent name. For such an innocent girl. And she's staring right at me.

She's alive. But I can't see her clearly. Is it the migraine? Is it the lighting?

Is she alive?

 _...Is she alive?..._

 _...She's alive..._

 _...Is she?..._

Is she alive? Or am I just hallucinating? Or... is she dead, and haunting me as a ghost?

I do not want to know.

"Clary," I test the name out, and she slowly reacts, a soft smile carving her lips. So many questions to ask... so many things to say... "Why are you here?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" She smiles more deeply, sitting on the edge of the hospital bed.

Because I'm bad. Because I... I tried to kill you. And maybe succeeded.

"Why are you here?" I try again, this time, lifting my finger to her lips, ghosting over her warmth. I wonder if she'll disappear the moment I touch her. She doesn't.

"Do you hate me?" She asks instead. "Is that why you... Is that why you..."

"Did I kill you?" My voice is barely even a whisper, she wouldn't have heard the small air pronouncing the torturous words. Did I kill you? Did I? I couldn't have. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I did.

"Shh," she, too, whispers, her index finger joining mine on her lips. "They're coming."

Then, she quickly moves and hides behind the door, just as it opens.

A young nurse comes in.

"Ah, I see you woke up. I'm just here to check on you."

"Where am I?"

"You're going to have to stay here, for a while. Your injury is not life threatening, but we still have to check on you. Dr. Williams will give a brief explanation later."

"Are they going to get me?"

She pauses for a moment, fumbling with the pocket on her gown. "Ah. Well... You're in a heap of trouble. But, due to your... ah... circumstances, we are here to help."

She means... I'm insane, and they're going lock me up in an asylum.

"Ah, in fact, you can talk to me if you have any question."

Clary, still at the doorway, smiles at me.

Is she alive? Is Clary alive? I'd the girl I tried to stab alive?

"Are you real?"

"Yes," she answers. "Why? Do you... see things?"

Her blue eyes seem to penetrate me, bothering me deeply.

Can you tell me if she's real? Tell me if you can see her green, innocent eyes. If you, too, can smell her woodsy presence. Like pines. If her ghost haunts you with love and pain. Or if she's alive.

"No," I inhale sharply. "Of course not."

"Good. Ah, well... When you are well enough, and of course, when the investigation-you know, that kind of stuff-is all over, you may attend some group therapies... or, you can schedule a meeting with a personal therapist..."

"Under surveillance."

"Ah..."

She doesn't seem scared by me. I can kill her with my bare fists. I can kill her, and I won't feel any guilt, and she's not scared, because she'll send me to a mental asylum.

"I should go inform Dr. Williams that you are now awake," Clary steps out of the doorway, out of my vision, as the nurse starts to turn around. "Ah... good luck."

After the nurse leaves, Clary sneaks back in, and presses a kiss against my temple. "Well done."

"What are you doing here?" I manage to gasp out.

Her eyes turn into a sad shade of green as she looks down at my face. "I thought I could be like you. I looked up to you. You were all I had in my entire lonely life."

"Sweetie..."

"But that's all I mean to you. After all, you... you...," she takes a deep breath, holding back her tears. "Did you plan this out when you first visited me?"

I don't know what to say, so I lift my palm up to her cheek, gently caressing the cold skin.

"Jace, were you ever sincere to me?" She touches my hand softly, burying her face into my warmth.

"God, please," I manage to choke out. "Please, sweetie... Clary... I love you. I love you!"

"Liar," her grip on my hand eases as she pulls away from me.

"No, no-" the fear of being left behind. "No, Clary. Please stay. Please. I'm so sorry."

"For what?"

"For... for..." did I kill you? Are you dead? Do you hate me so much now? Do you hate me so much you'll haunt me for the rest of my miserable life?

"What have you done," she whispers, and I know it's not a question.

"I'm sorry... I..." choking from tears, I grip her arm tightly to stop her from leaving. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

She stares me with that grim expression, the one that laces out betrayal and hate. Are they all she's got now? Does she not love me anymore? Oh, let her hate.

Let her hate if that's the only thing that will keep her around me.

"You can torture me however you want," I sob out desperately. "You can do whatever-but please don't leave. I love you."

"Jace, you're so pathetic," she pulls away from me completely, looking at me disdainfully. "There's nothing in you that's left to love."

"Don't. Leave."

The words echo around in the empty room.

She haunts me for days. Torturing, disappearing. Leaving. I'll learn to enjoy the pain. As long as it is inflicted by her.

I wonder what it would have been like if we had spent the summer together. We could have gone to that beach again and swim around. She has a summery spirit.

It's weird to miss her when she's right beside me. Floating through the wind, taunting me. And I-what can I do? What can I do but swallow her right through my jagged throat?

I love her.

I wish I could kill her all over again.

Maybe then, she'd stay with me, because I'm as dead as I can ever get. But she-she doesn't seem to ever die out.

But god.

What would I do if those lively green eyes lose their sparkling light? What would I do if her warmth disappears, leaving me by myself in this cold world? What would I do if the woodsy scent turns into the smell of rotting flesh?

I need to love her properly, but how can I, when I don't even know what it means?

Can I love? Can psychopaths love? Am I a psychopath? Or am I just a broken piece from the cruel humanity?

All I know is I long for something that I've never known. Like homesickness.

* * *

Days on morphine. Drugs. More torture. Then they let me go for a walk. With my newly assigned therapist. I don't hate her like most people. She attempts to 'rehabilitate' me. It's ridiculous. I can see the pity, the fear, the curiosity in her eyes. I don't bother to quench them.

I would like to go to the abandoned street, but I can only stay on the hospital property. And besides, I wouldn't want my therapist to know everything about me, although from all the investigations, she probably already knows much.

I don't know what will happen to me. I could go to the prison, I could live my days in the comfort of drugs, I could get locked away in an asylum. I don't know. It's good not to know.

"What are you thinking of?" The therapist asks.

I do not bother to answer, sitting down on one of the benches. The sky is dark, as if it is about to rain. I remember that rainy day when she told me she loved me. I doubt she does now.

I can see her pale face peeking from a window on the hospital. She's smiling tiredly at me, distant. She doesn't talk to me much these days.

"You don't have to like me, Jace. But you can talk to me of whatever you'd like," the therapist interrupts my thoughts.

After a pause, I ask, "Do you think it's going to rain?"

"Perhaps. We could get back into the hospital if you want."

"I'm fine," I say absentmindedly.

I look over at the gate of the hospital. Just a few steps, and it would be like I'm back to my normal self. Not a worn out patient.

"Denise," I address my therapist. "Would you mind?"

She looks comprehensively between the gate and me, pondering.

"Should I have to?" She inquires timidly.

I smile-a genuine one. "Perhaps. But sometimes, Denise, I'm just a tired boy who likes cloudy days."

She gives me a pat on my shoulder, and I know she is reassured by the anklet that would track me. "Okay. But be back before it starts to pour."

.

.

.

Clary follows me. She gently takes my hand, caressing and whispering.

"I heard psychopaths are talented in lying and getting what they want."

"I meant every word I said," I reply.

"Your therapist is a fool. But then again, I was a fool too."

"I don't care anymore," I speak hoarsely, taking in her soft scent. "I don't care if they chain me up like a beast."

A moment of silence passes.

We finally arrive at the street, and I sit down on the dirty concrete. She sits beside me, looking grimly into my eyes.

"This is important Jace," she whispers, touching my hair.

"What is?" I murmur, trying not to break the spell.

"You need to stop torturing yourself. Stop hurting yourself."

"I'm not doing anything," I frown, confused.

Then, she starts to cry, and I let her lean against me so I can hold onto her like a lifesaver just like she's her old self. Between her sobs, she plants kisses along my cheeks.

"It's good to have you back," I groan, caressing her back, inhaling her scent.

"You need to let me go," she sobs.

"No," I beg, holding on tightly. "I'm not ready yet."

"You never will be," she moans against my collarbone. "But this will kill you."

"What does it matter?" I wail. "What does it matter if you're not with me?"

"Jace," her lips now brush against my skin and I can't help but kiss her desperately, to hold onto whatever memory, whatever sensation I've got left of her.

"You can't leave me. Not like everyone else... You're all I've got, and I know I messed it up-"

"I won't leave you unless you let me. But you need to, Jace-you need to let go or you'll kill yourself."

I clutch onto her thin wrist, but she pulls away.

"I'm not leaving you. This is just a goodbye," she whispers.

Then it starts to rain, and I cry because I know it will crush her into tiny pieces because-because God, she is so small. And her tears join the raindrops and turn into raindrops and she turns into raindrops, and I lie down on my back, getting soaked from the acidic scent, all alone.

I tug at the anklet, and when it refuses to come off, I scream in the pouring rain, choked up from all the tears. I don't know how long I stay like that, looking directly up at the sky, concrete beneath my back.

Oh, how famous those lyrics are!

 _You make me happy, when skies are grey..._

But where are you when the skies are killing me? How can you be with me one moment, and then gone so suddenly? How do I bear the emptiness around me, when you were all I had in this hopeless world?

I cry all the tears out-from my hungry childhood, the scars from the drunks, Celine... oh god, how lives torment lives.

Then I remember my promise to Denise, how I said I will be back before it rains. So I smooth down my anklet in the rain. I'm already late and I can't linger no more. So I stumble along with the stuttering raindrops like a child underneath raining clouds for the first time.

 **The End**


End file.
